Staying the Course
by Ionuin
Summary: Ch 8- Full Frontal Pt. 2- Two years later it's an update! Read the AN!When everyone else believes him to be gone forever, will she be able to close Death's door?
1. The Miracle Worker

Staying the Course  
  
Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them. Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.  
  
***  
  
"Miss? Miss we've found another one for you."  
  
Turning away from the wounded soldier in front of her, the young woman acknowledged the messenger before she finished checking her patient's wounds. With a final gentle smile she stood and started for the parlour. From the tone of James' voice this new one was a lost cause. Then again, most of them were.  
  
"Ma'am?" Startled, she whipped around, her shock falling away as she realized it was only the private she had been tending.  
  
"Yes soldier?" Over the moans of pain and the hopeless crying the soft lilt of her voice carried far.  
  
"Thank you." Pain flashed across his face as he reached up a hand. Tucking her skirts beneath her, she knelt down next to him, taking his hand in her two as he spoke. "I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to say this again, but- thank you."  
  
"Whatever for?"  
  
"For not letting me die alone, in a field. For not looking at what colour coat I was wearing before giving me aid. For so many thing."  
  
A lone tear slipped down her cheek as she clutched the man's hand. "Sir please don't fear. I know you are in a lot of pain but there is no doubt in my mind that you will live. In a few days I am sure you will be marching off again to fight in your war and I hope you will return here if you need aid. The colour of your coat matters little when you are bleeding to death on my doorstep. Loyalist or Continental you are welcome to stay as long as you need and should you wish to stay and aid us, you will be met with much gratitude. Additional aid is always a boon when you are trying to help soldiers. They always seem to find it necessary to get themselves cut up. Perhaps one day you will explain it to me." She finished in a half-amused tone.  
  
He grinned weakly. "Perhaps I shall."  
  
"One of the other girls will be around if you need help, rest now."  
  
Sighing contentedly, he shut his eyes, settling against the rough wooden boards of the porch. Without pausing another moment the young lady swept up her skirts and strode toward the parlour.  
  
"Oh my goodness." The man lying on the covered table that served as her working area was whiter than fresh snow, made ever more evident by the vibrant red of the blood that stained his tunic-styled shirt. "Where was he found?"  
  
"Out by the old East house. It's been burned to the ground, no signs of the family. There's about twenty-five dead men out there, I checked 'em all myself. Thought this one was gone too but he broke outta the shock for a second and whispered a name all soft like 'fore he passed out again. Now Miss Catherine, I don't want you to get your hopes up 'bout this one. He's pretty far gone."  
  
Catherine nodded grimly, mind already set on the task before her. Going through the supplies she would need, she turned to the slim black woman at her side.  
  
"Amy we will need hot water and bandages, as much as can be spared. A new needle if you can find one and some strong thread. Hurry please, we don't have much time. James," she motioned the messenger over. "I may need your help. But first what was the name he whispered? It may be important."  
  
"I think it was Ann miss."  
  
"Thank you. Alright get some food and some rest while I examine the damage. If I need you I'll have Amy summon you."  
  
Nodding, James left Catherine alone with the nearly dead man. Heaving a forlorn sigh she got to work.  
  
The central wound was in his abdomen, and it was his good luck it had not pierced through to his back. As it was, his intestines had been gashed to all hell, and if they weren't stitched soon he would bleed to death. It was amazing he hadn't already, but James had undoubtedly done what he could for the man before he brought him in. As she worked Catherine kept up a steady stream of conversation, barely allowing herself to stop talking.  
  
"James, the messenger who brought you in doesn't think you'll live through the hour, much less the night. I do so love to prove James wrong. If I am to do this I must ask for your help. I think you'll make it, but then again, I always think they'll make it. Perhaps it is wrong of me to try to bring God's children back to this world when they are so close to entering Paradise. It's just that something in me tells me to keep fighting for them, just as they keep fighting for their respective causes.  
  
"You've been fighting for a long time, haven't you?" She asked, having just uncovered a scar that ran straight across his left side. "You've certainly been cut up before. Why must war be the only way? Why must we fight for the freedom God gave us?"  
  
Behind her, Amy returned, placing bandages and a large bowl of steaming water within her reach. One look at the size of the wound and Amy raced off again, in search of a needle and thread.  
  
Catherine continued. "You spoke a name when James found you. I believe it was Ann. Is she why you fight? Or is it something else? Something deeper? Perhaps you believe only in the cause, in the freedom. For a man to sacrifice his life, or at least be willing to his passion must be great. If only I had been born a man, how I long to truly fight for our freedom. I suppose then, that all this running off to war isn't really that much of a mystery to me."  
  
"Miss?" Amy had entered the room once again, needle, thread and brandy in hand. "Why do you talk to them?" Her deep dark eyes were curious, even as she took in the sight of the dying man. "Every time I see you working with one of those boys I see you talkin' to 'em. Why?"  
  
Catherine smiled weakly. "So they have something to hold onto. Something to anchor them to life. And. I suppose. so I don't have to think about the possibility of loosing one of them. It always seems like I'm doing the right thing when they live." She held out her hand for the thread, quickly reeling off a sufficient length. "Sterilize the needle for me please." She stated, rather then asked as she wiped the newly pooled blood away. "Then get some rest if no one needs you right away. It's been a long day."  
  
"And you Miss Catherine?"  
  
"I'll get some sleep when I can."  
  
"But Miss, you've been awake since sunup and you haven't stopped once 'cept for a moment at midday to eat a morsel. Shouldn't you,"  
  
Catherine silenced her with a quick look, holding out her hand once more for the needle.  
  
"Yes Miss." Amy was nearly to the door when Catherine spoke again.  
  
"Thank you Amy. I could not have gotten through the day without you."  
  
With a small nod, even though Catherine wasn't looking, Amy disappeared into the gloom of the hallway. Catherine focused once more on her patient, threading the needle and knotting the end.  
  
"You will be alright. Before my father left he told me to give care to those that needed it and to save as many as I could. He told me, 'War is an evil thing Catherine, it is the beast that brings out the worst in a man. War is the vessel driven with the held back anger and fury that most would never know they had. They will need you.' Not a man that has reached me has died yet. I suppose it is more to their credit then to mine. Please don't be the first. You must hang on. Please hang on."  
  
Catherine fell silent as she worked, her stitches small, the flow of blood slowly stopping. The grandfather clock in the corner slowly ticked off the seconds and nearing midnight her candle sputtered out, leaving her with only the glow of the fire to light her work. By the time the last stitch was tied off her patient looked no better, save for the fact that he no longer had a gaping hole in his stomach.  
  
Hour passed hour and still he slept on as Catherine kept watch over him. It was only well after dawn's first rays had crept over the eastern border that his eyes began to flutter open.  
  
"Ann? Ann where are you?"  
  
Startled, Catherine leapt to her feet, rushing to his side. The man struggled against her hands, trying in vain to sit up.  
  
"No, no lie still. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you awake, you had me worried for awhile there. Perhaps while you remain awake, which likely will not be for long, we can send a message off to your commanding officer."  
  
His dark brown eyes gazed up at her unwarily. "You. aren't Ann."  
  
With her customary gentle smile she shook her head. "No sir, my name is Catherine St. Stevens. Who might you be?"  
  
"Gabriel Martin."  
  
"Good, you can remember your name, that's good. And this Ann. Is she your wife?"  
  
Gabriel's eyes closed, and he laid his head back. Understanding Catherine didn't press the subject. Instead, she left his side for the first time in hours, searching for Amy.  
  
"How are the rest of the men?"  
  
"None dead, though some of 'em came close. You've done a lot of good here Miss. And what of this new one? He must've woken up or you wouldn't have left his side."  
  
Catherine's face clouded over at the mention of her newest patient. "I don't know. Yes he has woken up, but it appears he just lost his wife. I don't know how much he wants to live. Those are the ones you must struggle with the most."  
  
Amy looked Catherine over, taking in the circles under her eyes and the droop of her shoulders. "And you Miss? Did you sleep at all?"  
  
"Oh Amy, you know I never do. If he settles in well enough I'll sleep for an hour or so later on."  
  
"Good morning Miss."  
  
Catherine turned around at the strange voice, her face lighting up with true delight as she saw behind her the private who had been sure he would die yesterday evening.  
  
"Alive I see!"  
  
He smiled shyly, a blush turning his ears red. "Mostly 'cause of you Miss. I wanted to thank you again."  
  
"That's not necessary."  
  
"I know. But I wanted to. And I'd like to finally introduce myself. I am Steven Baldric, a private serving under Captain Burwell of the Continental Army." Steven lifted her hand to his mouth, bestowing it with a chaste kiss.  
  
"I am Catherine St. Stevens. It is a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Ma'am, I realize that I cannot return to the army quite yet, but I would like to try and help out some. What can I do?"  
  
Amy stepped forward, cutting off any response Catherine might have had. Amused, she held back her indignant response.  
  
"Mister Baldric I can't say I know what it feels like to get shot, but I imagine it ain't pretty. So whyn't you do us a favour and keep an eye on our new arrival so's Miss Catherine here can get some rest?"  
  
He nodded and tipped his hat. "Just point me in the right direction, I'd be glad to be of some use."  
  
Amy gave Catherine a satisfied smirk that dared her to renege her proposal.  
  
"Very well, I suppose I could use a short rest. Before I go however, I would like to send James off with a message to Gabriel's contingent. Would you send him in please? Steven, if you would follow me."  
  
She swept into the house, Steven following dutifully behind her. Gabriel's eyes were open again, and he took in the room around him with a careful stare.  
  
"Hello again Gabriel. This is Steven Baldric, he will be staying with you while I rest. Is that alright with you?"  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Worry tightening her features Catherine's ever present smile slipped. "Very well. Before I go, I would like for you to dictate a letter to send off to your commanding officer."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
Frowning she left the room in search of parchment and a quill. While she was gone, Steven pulled a chair over so he could sit by Gabriel.  
  
"Hello, Gabriel was it? I'm Steven Baldric, just call me Baldric."  
  
Gabriel didn't answer so Baldric continued. "That Catherine is an amazing woman isn't she? Doesn't care what side you fight for just gives you help. I've never met anyone like that before."  
  
"I have."  
  
Baldric looked up at him. "Really, who?"  
  
"My father. A battle erupted literally on our front lawn and all the wounded were offered our care. When the Green Dragoons arrived to pick up their wounded they found the dispatches I carried. They killed my brother. All he tried to do was save me." Gabriel turned his head away, lost in the nightmarish memory that plagued him.  
  
Baldric blanched. "I'm sorry."  
  
Gabriel continued to stare at the wall, "You had no way of knowing."  
  
Silence reigned after Gabriel spoke, and it remained until Catherine returned. She looked at the two brooding men and began to wish she had not so readily accepted Amy's idea. Collecting her wits, she continued on her intended path. Settling herself on the floor next to Gabriel she filled the nib of her quill with ink.  
  
"Who should it be addressed to?"  
  
"Colonel Benjamin Martin."  
  
Baldric leapt to his feet. "You serve with Benjamin Martin?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"May I shake your hand?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Benjamin Martin and his militia have become legends to the regulars. Or at least the ones serving under Captain Burwell. Our Captain is often telling us of your conquests to boost the morale. To think you have met the Ghost!" Baldric's face was alight with amazement.  
  
Gabriel gave a short snort of laughter. "Well if he arrives here do me a favour. Don't tell him. If he gets a high opinion of himself he'll be impossible to live with after the war."  
  
"You're his son?!"  
  
Clearing her throat and grabbing their attention Catherine cut short the conversation. "If you two don't mind I'd like to finish this letter. Unlike some of you, I have not slept all night."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"And for heavens sake stop calling me ma'am! I am, without a doubt, younger then the two of you. Gabriel, begin."  
  
Without further prompting Gabriel dictated, "To Colonel Benjamin Martin. Dear Father, I am alive and currently attaining care at the manor of Ms. Catherine St. Stevens. I am sorry for my impulsive and foolish behaviour and even more so to know you believed me dead. This is much more I wish to say, but don't quite know how. I'm so sorry. I will stop now as I am dictation to Ms. St. Stevens and she is tired from tending to me last night. Your loving son, Gabriel. Will that do?"  
  
Catherine smiled. "Yes, I believe it will do just fine. James will have it in your father's hands by nightfall. Will you please sign your name?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"As proof that it is really you since I wrote the letter itself."  
  
Grimacing, Gabriel motioned Baldric over. "Help me sit up will you?"  
  
"Just a little!" Catherine protested, handing Gabriel the quill. His signature was messy but it was his own. As Baldric was helping him lie back down James joined them.  
  
"Amy said you wanted to see me Miss."  
  
"Yes. This is a letter for Colonel Benjamin Martin. Await a response or bring Mister Martin back. Understand?"  
  
"Yes Miss."  
  
"I'm sorry, I know you do. I'm just a little tired."  
  
"I heard that." Smiling happily Amy stepped in. "Mister Gabriel it sure is nice to see you awake. This young thing has taken it into her mind to save each and every one of you poor fellows. Didn't sleep a wink last night after you were brought in. Come Miss, it's off to bed with you."  
  
Catherine smiled tiredly, covering her mouth as she yawned. "Take care. And if anything should happen."  
  
"You will be awoken immediately, now go!"  
  
With a wave Catherine disappeared up the stairs and James gathered what information he could from the exhausted Gabriel before he set out for the ruin of Cowpens.  
  
***  
  
Blue faded to black as an inky twilight took reign of the sky. Near the ruin of Cowpens continental tents stretched as far as the eye could see, a white ocean against the darkness of the coming night. Here and there soldiers passed each other, exchanging murmured greetings and pleasantries. In makeshift barns horses settled and the entire camp seemed unreal as anxious anticipation flowed among it's occupants- mingled with a palpable hope. Yes, the hope was almost tangible as a young black man rode in alone, the message he carried burning like fire in his pocket. But even the messenger couldn't fathom the importance of that particular message.  
  
James stopped by a group of men on the outskirts of the camp, dressed not in the blue uniform of the Rebels, but as simple farmers.  
  
'Militia.' James thought as he reined his horse in. 'Maybe the ones I'm looking for.'  
  
"Excuse me." He called to the sombre group. "I'm looking for a Mister Benjamin Martin, could you tell me where he might be found?"  
  
A sharp-eyed man with tousled blond curls stepped into the light. "'e is indisposed. What is the message?" His accent distinctly French, James thought back to the brief conversation he had had with Gabriel about Benjamin's militia.  
  
"Would you happen to be Jean?"  
  
"'ow did you know my name?"  
  
James grinned widely. "Whyn't you take me to see Mister Benjamin first? I have some news about his son he might want to have."  
  
"His son is dead." The voice arose from the deepest shadows beneath the tree, no body coming forward to face this stranger. "Gabriel's gone."  
  
"That so?" James questioned amusedly. "Well it just so happens I got me a letter in my pocket from the person who saved him, saying otherwise. So whyn't you let me deliver it to the poor man? I can imagine he's sufferin' something awful."  
  
Jean nodded at the smiling black man atop the exhausted horse. "I will take you to him. But be aware, if you speak lies I will take great pleasure in your death."  
  
James returned his nod, smile determinedly remaining in place.  
  
Jean led the way, James's horse ambling along behind him and the rest of the militia following purposely. Their journey was short and outside the tent where Benjamin Martin supposedly rested his men shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Inside a horribly bitter conversation was taking place.  
  
"Harry I have to go back! I. I left him, I don't know what I was. what was I thinking?! Oh god, he's dead." The man's voice cracked, sobs drowning out his words.  
  
"Benjamin you were literally dragged from his side. You didn't even know you were riding until you arrived here. You must not blame yourself."  
  
Benjamin's cries softened enough so he was once again able to talk. "I let him die. I let him. Oh God, why him? Why couldn't it have been me? Not Gabriel, please not Gabriel."  
  
"Benjamin this war needs you, your men need you. Nothing you can do will bring your sons back. Stay the course. Stay with us and don't let their sacrifices go to waste. In a few days you will have the chance to avenge their deaths and help change the course of this war."  
  
"Fight your own war. I am small matter to it. Let me go and be with my family before this war kills them too."  
  
Jean parted the tent flap as James dismounted. Clearing his throat and alerting the two men to their presence, Jean motioned James in.  
  
"Colonel. This man, he says he has a message from Gabriel."  
  
Benjamin stared at the two newcomers in shock, his mouth opening and closing without a word.  
  
James stepped forward, holding the letter out in front of him. "Sir I understand that you believed your son was dead, but I saw him myself, just before I rode out. He was dictating this letter to Miss Catherine." Benjamin's gaze fell to the white paper with the red wax seal in this man's hand. "I found him myself, took him for dead as well, but he opened his eyes a moment and spoke the name Ann clear as day. He's half a days ride from here. If we ride straight that is."  
  
"That's not. Is it possible?"  
  
James grinned encouragingly. "Doesn't seem like it could be does it? Miss Catherine's saved about thirty men so far, some of them worse off then Gabriel was. I don't know what she does, but she just keeps on doing it."  
  
Harry Burwell interrupted Benjamin's stammered response. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about a woman named Catherine St. Stevens would you?"  
  
"Why yes I am sir. Have you met her?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, but she has taken care of some of my men, one's I would have given up for dead. They say she has never lost a man she's tried to save. Helps indiscriminately, Redcoats, Continentals, Militia. Apparently she's a patriot however."  
  
Benjamin stared at James, his red-rimmed eyes void of any spark of life. "Why should I believe you?"  
  
"I have a letter." He replied, passing the hastily sealed paper over to Benjamin.  
  
After a cursory glance Benjamin returned his accusatory glare back at James. "It's not Gabriel's handwriting."  
  
"No. He dictated it to Miss Catherine. She made him sign it himself though. She thought you'd need proof. My orders are to return with a reply or to bring you back with me. It's your decision."  
  
Benjamin traced the signature with his index finger, a look of pure amazement etched on his face. "How soon can we leave?"  
  
"If I can be lent a fresh horse, as soon as you're ready."  
  
He looked up at the black man standing before him. "Take me to my son."  
  
*** 


	2. Seeing Ghosts

Staying the Course  
  
Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them.  
  
Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.  
  
* * *  
  
Catherine St. Stevens worked tirelessly, going from man to man, checking healing wounds, cheering those who needed it with a smile or a kind word. Yet her mind remained on the wounded man in the parlour, with his saddened eyes and the trials to be faced with his recovery.  
  
James would have reached Colonel Martin by now, and they could very likely be on their way back. Gabriel and Baldric had managed to get along, Baldric's hero-worship fading into friendship. Gabriel had fallen in and out of consciousness throughout the day, as she had expected. After his first lapse, Baldric had torn up the stairs, convinced that something was terribly wrong and that she was needed immediately. She had tiredly explained that Gabriel would continue to fall asleep until his blood count and his body have recovered sufficiently. Catherine had waved away Baldric's embarrassed apology and returned to bed for another half hour. How she longed to return to that bad now, physically and emotionally exhausted from countless hours of bandaging horrific wounds.  
  
Catherine straightened, staring out at the sky. The sun had set an hour ago and nearly everyone was asleep. Only Amy remained with her on the porch, tending to the men.  
  
"Miss you need to sleep. You've barely slept at all but for a wink this morning!"  
  
"Amy hush. I plan on keeping an eye on Gabriel and waiting for word from James. Should Mister Martin be with him I wish to be awake to speak with him."  
  
Amy sighed, gathering her skirts and making her way into the house. "As you wish ma'am."  
  
Catherine frowned at Amy's tone of voice. She remained where she was standing for a moment longer before following Amy's path. In the parlour she found Baldric and Gabriel talking in low tones, as if they had known each other for years.  
  
"My father is an amazing man. I have never met anyone stronger. My mother, my brother and now I, presumed at least, are dead. When I found out my wife was dead I barely waited five minutes before I took off after the man who caused it. I don't know how he has kept fighting, kept living, all these years. I can't imagine my life without her." Gabriel paused, giving Catherine a chance to interrupt.  
  
"Perhaps the two of you could finish in the morning. Both of you are healing and need rest."  
  
With a sheepish grin Baldric nodded, biding Gabriel goodnight and crossing to the door.  
  
"Wait!" Catherine called. "I want to check your bandages."  
  
"Oh I'm fine. Don't worry."  
  
"That is for me to determine. Sit." Under Catherine's scowl and glare Baldric returned to his vacated seat, allowing her to lift his shirt and bandage away from his shoulder. "There is no sign of infection, and it seems to have begun to heal. This could have been far worse. I'll put a smaller bandage on it tomorrow, in the meantime, take care of it."  
  
"Don't need to." Baldric stated matter-of-factly. At her surprised stare he said laughingly, "You keep doing it for me."  
  
"Oh you."  
  
With a wave he returned to his spot on the porch, leaving Catherine and Gabriel alone.  
  
"And you corporal? How are you faring?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
"I haven't seen much of you today, but it seems you and Baldric have managed to find a kindred spirit in each other. I hope he has not been a bother to you?"  
  
Gabriel ignored he question, asking one of his own instead. "Is there any word from my father?"  
  
"Not yet. But do not worry, I'll be keeping watch tonight. I expect they will arrive soon. Let me check your wound and then you should try and rest."  
  
He nodded consent, closing his eyes as she lifted his bandages, explaining some of the process that would follow with his recovery. "There is still a serious risk of infection. If you begin to feel ill or feverish or if the pain increases at all it is imperative that you inform someone immediately. Either Baldric or myself will be with you at all times over the next forty- eight hours."  
  
Gabriel gave the barest of nods to show that he understood before leaning back against the pillows provided. After reassuring herself that there was no new bleeding Catherine retired to a chair by the fire, ripping old sheets into strips to use for bandages.  
  
By midnight, Gabriel was sleeping soundly and there was still no sign of infection. The stifling silence was disturbed by the thunder of approaching hoof beats. Leaving her seat Catherine passed the stirring men on the porch, meeting the messenger and his companion as they rode up to the house.  
  
The unknown man dismounted in front of her, James taking his reins and leading his horse away to the barn.  
  
"Colonel Martin I presume?"  
  
"Yes. Miss St. Stevens, how is my son?"  
  
She smiled, taking him by the arm and leading him toward the house. "Gabriel was near death when James brought him to me, so don't want you to expect too much when you see him. Last night was harrowing, but he made it. He awoke this morning and we sent for you nearly immediately after. There is still risk of infection but as of yet he has shown no signs. If he remains healthy for the next forty-eight hours then he will only need time, we hope. I will take you to him, but if possible, try not to wake him. His body has suffered a lot of trauma and he needs to rest in order to heal."  
  
"I understand."  
  
She smiled and led him to the parlour. At the sight of his son Benjamin's calm composure broke and he rushed to Gabriel's side. He knelt at his side, watching in awe as his chest rose and fell with each breath.  
  
"Oh God. Thank you! Thank you! Gabriel... I... I thought..."  
  
"Father?" Half asleep Gabriel's voice rang in Benjamin's ears like the voice of the Heavenly Father himself, aided by a chorus of angels. "Father is it really you?"  
  
"Yes. I'm here. I thought I had lost you forever Gabriel. I couldn't believe... Everything is alright now. Everything is fine."  
  
Gabriel opened his eyes blearily. "You would have survived had I died. I couldn't, I'm not as strong as you. When Ann died I fell apart. All my talk of staying the course and it was I who lost it. I'm sorry; so sorry."  
  
"Oh son, you have done nothing wrong. Rest now, we will talk again in the morning."  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes again, a small smile playing across his lips.  
  
Catherine checked him for a fever once more, then motioned Benjamin into the kitchen. After setting the kettle on the fire James walked in. She placed the bread and cheese on the table and busied herself with the tea. The food was nearly gone when she sat down at last.  
  
"I'm sure you have some questions for us. James and I will answer to the best of our ability."  
  
Benjamin began, eyes downcast. "Firstly, thank you. I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for believing he was dead. But, I saw him die." He looked up, locking gazes with the woman across the table. "Everything in me tells me I was not wrong. I don't understand."  
  
"He wasn't dead although I know he appeared to be. I assume that when you were with him he went slack, seemed to stop breathing and his eyes went glassy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Catherine leaned back, a cat-like smile of satisfaction crossing her lips. "Gabriel went into shock. That is the most dangerous time for someone who has suffered a grievous injury such as his. I am amazed he made it here. I stitched him up as best I could, but you must understand, Gabriel has lost copious amounts of blood. It will take a fairly long time for his body to replenish it. I have overheard that there will soon be a battle taking place that could turn this war, but if Gabriel is to live he must not fight in it."  
  
Benjamin gave a snort of laughter reminiscent of Gabriel's. "Miss have you actually met my son? I have yet to meet anyone with a stronger passion for liberty and this war. He is stubborn to beat all hell, and when he makes up his mind to do something, you had better just step out of his way. Even as a child the only one who could make him stop and think about his actions was his Mother. And then Ann." Benjamin became silent, staring at his hands, his mind awash in the memory of the pretty, delicate Ann. Ann, with her dark curls and soft eyes. Ann, his daughter-in-law for so short a time.  
  
"She was his wife wasn't she? New I assume. Her murderer did this to him, did he not?"  
  
Benjamin nodded. "They were married and then she was gone. Even during their courtship they saw little of each other. She was in Pembroke, with her family, and he was fighting, with me. You remind me of her somewhat. She was smaller, but you do look like her. I imagine that is why he seems distant. She was strong, like you, but she was strong in a different way. Fire in your souls; that's what you have."  
  
Catherine grinned, a faint blush lighting up her porcelain pure face as a lock of near-black hair fell over her eye. "You see much for someone who has known me less then half of the hour. How did you know he was distant, particularly towards me?"  
  
James spoke up for Benjamin. "I told him as we was riding. Wanted to know if he'd taught his boy to be so indignant towards a lady, 'specially one who saved his life."  
  
"James! Gabriel was not indignant. He iwasi withdrawn, but that was natural for someone who had nearly died. I always wonder if I've done the right thing, bringing them back to this world when they are so close to Paradise. I feel sorry for Gabriel and Ann. He had almost returned to her, and I pulled him back. I," but whatever Catherine was about to say was cut of by a loud thump outside the kitchen door. A voice was heard swearing and a moment later the door flew open. Benjamin drew his pistol and targeted the crumpled figure on the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry Miss Catherine. I was trying to be quiet but it didn't quite work."  
  
Catherine's anger flushed face cooled as she recognized the man. "Baldric?! What in God's name are you doing awake at this hour?"  
  
"I wanted to meet the Ghost ma'am."  
  
She sighed in exasperation. "Foolish boy. Well come over here, I'll need to check your shoulder. Here is your Ghost. Mister Martin, meet Steven Baldric, Private under Captain Harry Burwell of the Continental army." As an afterthought she added to Baldric, "And stop calling me ma'am."  
  
"Sorry ma'am."  
  
At Catherine's glare Baldric shut up, something Benjamin thought him wise for doing. He holstered his gun, watching the exchange with amusement.  
  
iSo this is the girl that has been saving so many lives. Somehow I can see it. St. Stevens, I know that name. Wasn't there someone named St. Stevens with us at Fort Wilderness?i  
  
"Miss did your father ever serve in the army?"  
  
I was wondering when you would make the connection. Yes, my father was with you at Fort Wilderness. Walter St. Stevens. He came back a haunted man, or so my mother said, and dedicated eight years of his life to learning medicine. When I was a child I sat in his office and learned everything I could just from watching him. He tried to teach my oldest brother, but he didn't want to learn medicine, he wanted to fight. There was only me. He was killed in battle a year ago." Catherine didn't look up at all during her monologue, focusing on the patient in front of her.  
  
"I'm sorry. He was a good man."  
  
"He spoke very highly of you. He called you a hero, a true hero. Not because of your acts at Fort Wilderness, but because of the guilt you suffered from because of it. 'He was a human being, Catherine,' he used to say to me. 'So many believe themselves to be, but never manage it.' He loved to tell me about how you were real because you had feeling. You suffered when you killed, and men bought you drinks. Never seemed like a fair trade off to me. He would never tell me what it was you all did to inspire such guilt. I never want to know."  
  
Baldric remained silent as she poked and prodded his wound. A deep frown marred her features as she caught sight of the fresh blood. "You Mister Baldric now need new bandages, and have reopened the risk of infection. I am placing you under Mister Martin's care until I can find something to be used as a bandage. Mister Martin, don't let him move."  
  
Grabbing a candle off the running board she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Benjamin and Baldric to stare at each other.  
  
"So... why did you want to meet me?"  
  
Baldric turned red, undeniably sheepish. "I've been serving with Captain Burwell sir. He's told us about the things you and your Militia have done. You are practically a legend."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Benjamin seemed to mull over that fact for a moment, letting it sink in. iSo Harry has been telling his men Ghost stories.i "How long have you been fighting for?"  
  
"Four years sir."  
  
He nodded, musing about the numbers. "Four years. That's when Gabriel began as well. Did you serve with him? Before I had him transferred to the militia?"  
  
"I don't think so sir. Although we talked most of today, we had never met each other properly before."  
  
Benjamin's interest perked when Baldric mentioned that he and Gabriel had talked much of the day. "What did you talk about? How did he sound?"  
  
Before Baldric could even open his mouth to answer Catherine burst in. "Wait! I want to hear as well."  
  
She bustled through the open door, dropping an assortment of white underskirts on the table. Reaching for a pair of scissors she began to rip and tear the material into strips.  
  
"Miss! You can't use these!"  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"Those are your clothes! And fine ones at that."  
  
"Well Mister Baldric what else would you have me use? The bandages we were able to find or that the church donated are long since gone, and I tore up the last of the sheets tonight. These would be used sooner or later and if they are ripped tonight then I will not have to think about it when there is a dying man who needs them. Now, tell us about Gabriel."  
  
Baldric stared at her in astonishment for a moment before he began. "I don't know how much help I can be, I had never met him before so if a drastic change has taken place I wouldn't see it. He seemed weak, didn't eat much, and slept a lot. But you know Miss; he seems more withdrawn when you are with him. He is actually quite interesting, and he talked a great deal about his family. But when you walk into the room he closes up. I can't for the life of me understand why, everyone else nearly worships you for what you've done for us."  
  
Catherine cut him off, "Baldric, if it's not too much trouble could you finish telling us about the conversation and dissect his psyche later?"  
  
"Sorry Miss. I guess I went off track. Anyway, all he really talked about was his family. Mister Martin, his mother, his brothers and sisters, and someone named Charlotte."  
  
A light blush crept over Benjamin's face at the mention of this Charlotte, Baldric didn't pause, but Catherine noticed.  
  
"He never mentioned this Ann person that I had over heard you talking about. I didn't ask him about her; I figured that if I was supposed to know about her he'd tell me himself. Are you almost done Miss?"  
  
Catherine smiled tiredly, grabbing a longer strip of cloth. "Nearly. Lift up your right arm please."  
  
Deftly winding the thick cloth straight across his shoulder and under his arm she knotted it under his neck and stepped back to admire her work. "That should do it. Just don't fall on it again."  
  
Baldric had the good nature to grin back at her recrimination. "As you wish. I think it's time for me to return to my spot on the porch. Goodnight Miss Catherine, sir." He nodded respectfully to Benjamin and cast Catherine a final grin before strolling out through the door.  
  
Catherine began gathering up the remaining petticoats. Motioning to the scissors on the table she said to Benjamin, "I would enjoy your company while I watch Gabriel tonight. I am sure you want to be as close to him as possible."  
  
He nodded, grabbing both the scissors she had indicated and the lamp off the table, following her into the parlour. "Do you keep watch every night?"  
  
She shrugged. "It depends. When someone like Gabriel comes in, yes. I make sure there is someone either with him or nearby at all times until I feel the threat of infection has passed and he is able to move on his own. You needn't worry about him when you return to your battle, we will take good care of him."  
  
"How did you know I would be going back?"  
  
"They always do." She mumbled into her lap. "Every single man who has fought for his life in this house has returned to fight for his respective cause. Every single man. I don't see why you would be any different."  
  
"You must be some kind of miracle worker."  
  
"No. I am just a woman."  
  
Dropping the newly made bandages on the floor Catherine stood abruptly and strode to Gabriel's side. Tucking a loose strand of wavy dark hair behind her ear, she leaned over Gabriel, checking his temperature, breathing and the healing cut on his stomach with the practiced ease of someone who had seen many other men through such a time. In the warm light of the fire, Benjamin was able to observe her clearly for the first time, and the woman in front of him was a contradiction personified.  
  
Long dark waves cascaded down her back, alight with lines of sunshine, fire and the purest, deepest black. Her face was shaped like a heart and gave the illusion of sweet innocence. But the determined set of her mouth and the age of her eyes made Benjamin sure that she had faced trials in her pasts, much as he had faced in his. He had made a mistake when he compared her to Ann. If they were similar it was in the same was sunrise and sunset were similar. Ann was the fading sunset, bringing light to someone else as it faded to the gentle night. But this Catherine, she was the sunrise, brilliant, bold and passionate.  
  
"You seem lost in your thoughts. What could make a man think so hard when everything is going right?"  
  
"I am sure you can figure it out."  
  
"Perhaps you place to much faith in my abilities. I shall try, and you will correct my mistakes. Your mind is always on this war, your next move, the upcoming battle," she paused. "The aftermath. You wonder if this war will rest as heavily on your soul as the last one did. Your family. You want nothing more then them to be safe, and you long to return to them. The Charlotte Baldric mentioned is not, I'm guessing, the mother of your children, but someone new. She is with your children, wherever they are. And I believe your mind now rests on me. I suppose I am a conundrum to you, I am to most people. You can not figure out why I am alone here without a man to protect me. I have no husband, my brothers are fighting, my father is dead and here I remain, tending to soldiers from both sides. Well, was I close?"  
  
Catherine looked up to see Benjamin staring at her in astonishment. "I am beginning to understand how it is you can live out here all alone."  
  
"Well I'm not really alone am I?" At Benjamin's questioning stare she elaborated. "I have no family left, but I have Amy and James. The church asks for volunteers, so there is normally someone from town here. Some of the families I have helped outside of the soldiers have signed over slaves. I free them and some of them stay to help for a time. I never begrudge the ones who leave, most have lived hard lives. People have tried to get me to stop helping or to choose a side, but I never will. I believe in what I am doing and that is worth more then anything else I could ever imagine."  
  
"More then love?"  
  
Her eyes clouded over and her face became as dark and angry as a torrential rain storm. "What is love? This thing that drives people apart, when it should be bringing them together. They say you find the other half to your soul, but all you find is a murderer to kill the half you have. Love is a figment of too many imaginations." She stared at her hands as though they were the most fascinating thing she had even laid eyes on.  
  
"I do not see how someone with such a loving soul could not believe in love."  
  
"I suppose I believe in it, and it is all well and good for the dreamers and the children, but it is not for me. I will never fall in love because I will never find someone who is able to love me back. I will get you a blanket and pillow. I am sure you are tired." In the blink of an eye this cynical creature that had overtaken Catherine had vanished, and the calm woman who painstakingly cared for so many had returned.  
  
As she walked out of the room Benjamin stood up, walking over to Gabriel and kneeling by his side. Clasping his hands in front of his eyes, he began to pray.  
  
"Dear Lord, I cannot thank you enough, nor will I ever be able to repay you for saving my son. I do now and will forevermore believe that you saved him through an angel on earth named Catherine St. Stevens. I ask two favors of you tonight. Keep my children and Charlotte safe, and free Catherine from whatever it is that haunts her spirit so. Bless our brothers-in-arms that have journeyed forth from our blood soaked fields to stand by your side in heaven. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen."  
  
Catherine prepared the bed on the chaise lounge near Gabriel. As Benjamin climbed in, Catherine stoked the fire and checked Gabriel's condition once more. Out of half-closed lids Benjamin studied her intently, vainly trying to see beyond her outer shell. After nearly ten minutes she returned to her seat, picking up the last petticoat and smoothing it in her lap before reaching for her scissors.  
  
"Where do you sleep Catherine?"  
  
Startled she dropped the scissors. Luckily, she caught them in her lap, and Gabriel did not stir. "Benjamin! I thought you were asleep."  
  
"Not yet. Where do you sleep?"  
  
"You are very persistent are you not?"  
  
"Perhaps the question should be when do you sleep?"  
  
"In the morning, when everyone else is awake and there are no catastrophes to be diverted. Amy always makes sure I rest, although when I have a case like Gabriel's I am awake through the night for as long as I deem it necessary. Do not worry yourself, I have taken care of myself for a very long time, I am quite adept at it."  
  
"If you insist." Rolling onto his side Benjamin stopped talking. Mere minutes later his deep even breathing told Catherine he was truly asleep.  
  
Laying her fresh bandages aside, she moved in front of the fire. Suddenly feeling very alone in this warm room, full of love and safety, tears began to steal down her face. Shadows built up as the fire gnawed away at the fresh wood in the hearth, and curling up into a ball on the floor, quiet sobs forced their way out of Catherine's throat. Phantom hands ripped at her as she cried, never ceasing their infinite torment.  
  
Only when the blazing flames had calmed to white hot embers did Catherine stand, throwing another log in and walking to the kitchen to wash her face. Piling her bandages neatly on the small desk beside her, Catherine searched for her knitting, longing for when she would be able to lay her head down and fall into oblivion for a few short hours.  
  
* * *  
  
(A/N) Just a short note to say to thanks to Chase M. Dakota and Aliana for reviewing. You guys rock! 


	3. Echos

Staying the Course  
  
Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them. Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.  
  
(A/N) Hey to Niko, Alaina and Jonathan Lee. Thanks for reviewing! Niko your reviews seriously rock, and Alaina (My # 1 FAN!) Thanks for thinking my story deserves a #1 FAN! And J. Lee-I know Catherine seems like a Mary-Sue, but that's only cause you know me and you know about Faith, however her differences should become clearer soon. (If you even keep reading this. :P) BTW- Niko, better descriptions are coming next chapters, thanks again for the advice. : D  
  
* * *  
  
"Was my father really here?"  
  
Once again Gabriel was awake at cock-crow, intense eyes focusing quickly. A grin crept onto Catherine's face for the first time since her episode last night.  
  
"Was and is. He however is still sleeping. How are you this morning? Is the pain lessening at all?"  
  
Gabriel tried to sit up, and, with a grimace, succeeded. "A little, and I'm beginning to get my head about me again. I wanted to thank you for what you have-"  
  
"Quit while you're ahead my good friend! Miss Catherine is not fond of thank you's."  
  
"Good morning Baldric." Gabriel answered him cheerily.  
  
"And you Gabriel. Sitting up I see! And without my help. I am so proud."  
  
"Umhm." Turning to face Catherine, the two men resembled little boys caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "If you two jesters do not mind I would like to allow Mister Martin a few hours more of sleep. Quietly please."  
  
"Don't bother."  
  
"Father!"  
  
Gathering half of her work from the night before in her arms Catherine began to walk toward the door. "Mister Baldric, if you are feeling alright after your tumble last night then perhaps you would help me. Grab the bandages on the desk and pick up your feet."  
  
Briskly following her lead, Baldric had soon disappeared as well, leaving father and son alone.  
  
"Should you be sitting up?" Benjamin asked worriedly.  
  
Gabriel shrugged. "Catherine did not say anything when I sat up before so I suppose it is alright."  
  
"She is an interesting woman. What do you think of her?"  
  
He shrugged again. "She is brave and she appears to have a kind heart. Dealing with soldiers from both sides could prove to be volatile. I do not understand her. She's..."  
  
Tears sprang to his eyes, and with a gargantuan effort he forced them back.  
  
"Not Ann." His father finished for him.  
  
Like a flash flood from a surprise thunderhead Gabriel began to cry. First silent, frozen drops of water falling as tentatively as an early drizzle, then breaking forth with the force of an avalanche sobs burst from his very soul. A piece of his heart fell from his eyes with every cry that broke through his body. As if Gabriel was a tiny child once more Benjamin gathered his son into his arms, his large strong hands making comforting circles on Gabriel's back. How long they sat like that neither could tell; when it seemed to Gabriel his tears would never stop, only then did they abate, slowing from a fast, furious hurricane, to a calm soothing rain.  
  
"Will it ever stop?"  
  
"Hurting?" Benjamin questioned. "Perhaps not the way you think it will. There will come a day, likely quite far away, when you think of Ann and don't feel as though everything in your world is wrong. One day you will wake up and suddenly be startled when you realize you did not think of her as soon as your eyes opened. Will you ever stop missing her? No. And you will never want to. If you stopped remembering her she would cease to exist, and that should never happen. One day you might even find someone else,"  
  
"There will never be anyone else for me." Gabriel's voice was hard, unrelenting. "There was Ann, and there will never be another."  
  
Benjamin frowned, leaning back in his seat. "Gabriel, what do you remember of when your mother died?"  
  
"I remember Thomas and I playing with the children quietly, and sitting in the kitchen with Abigail alone after they had all gone to bed. We had not seen you all day, you were upstairs with Mother. I fell asleep with my head on the table. Suddenly I heard something crash upstairs. I ran up to see what had happened, and I met Thomas and Margaret outside the door to your bedroom. We all stood there, afraid to open the door. There was another crash and then a loud thump, as though someone sat down too fast. I heard someone crying. Abigail came upstairs and opened the door. You were sitting on the floor next to the bed, and Mother was covered with a blanket. Margaret turned and buried her face in my side, and Thomas ran forward, crying. I stood outside your door in shock, and then sank to the floor, still holding on to Margaret. I remember Abigail crying, and Thomas trying to uncover Mother, but you wouldn't let him. The next day you rode out at dawn, and did not return until halfway through the night. You stopped smiling after that day, until William and Thomas played that joke on Abigail. You laughed, and it was like you had broken a spell. Things went back to normal after that, except that Mother was gone."  
  
A half smile flitted across Benjamin's lips as Gabriel finished speaking, the same memories dancing through his mind. Coming out of his trance, Benjamin sat up straighter, staring his son determinedly in the eye. "After your mother died I could hardly bear to look at you or Margaret or Susan. All of you looked too much like her. I blamed myself after she died, and I, like you, swore I would never love someone else. But then I found, or rather re-found Charlotte. Loving her doesn't mean I love your mother any less, it just means I love her. Don't say no to a question before you have even heard what the person is going to say."  
  
* * *  
  
As soon as Catherine and Baldric stepped out into the sun, Amy was upon them like green on grass.  
  
"Miss Catherine did you sleep at all last night?"  
  
Catherine sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. "Amy I appreciate the fact that you are truly worried about me, but I can assure you that I can take care of myself. Once Mister Martin departs, or if he makes the decision to stay then I will happily rest. Until then I intend to continue working. Is there any food for the soldiers?"  
  
Amy huffed. "Some of them church girls are looking after it. I'd suggest you getting a bite to eat, but you don't take kindly to my suggestions. You would likely bite my head off instead."  
  
"Did I hear the mention of food?"  
  
Amy's face lit up. "Why Mister Baldric! Miss Catherine was just saying that the two of you should break fast together. I know she wants to talk to one of the ladies from the church."  
  
Grinning, Baldric placed his bundle of bandages on the floor before offering Catherine his arm. "Shall we eat milady?"  
  
"So now I'm a lady am I?" She asked as she placed her bandages next to his, linking arms and strolling away, greeting the soldiers who had already awoken.  
  
"To me and the rest of the men, absolutely!"  
  
Laughing and joking they stopped by the parlour for just a moment, Catherine looking in and quickly retracting her head as she viewed the scene between father and son. Shaking her head as Baldric began to comment, they finished their walk tacitly. The kitchen was filled with warmth and chatter, the welcome smell of fresh baking bread tempting their senses as Catherine and Baldric entered. Four women Baldric had not yet met bustled about the small space, preparing food and washing clothes.  
  
"Hello Evelyn. What is the news from town?"  
  
The woman standing by the oven stood up, tacitly greeting Catherine with a smile. "Catherine St. Stevens you are the only person I know who can stir up an entire town from two miles away! All the news is of you, same as last week."  
  
Catherine sank into one of the rough wooden chairs at the table, gratefully receiving a plate of food. "And how was Sunday's church service, I was unable to attend."  
  
Evelyn smirked cheekily. "Reverend Haskill asked us to pray for you and your soldiers just like he has since you started trying to save the world. If you ask me he should ask God to return your sanity." Catherine tried to protest, but she her mouth was full of piping hot bread and butter. Evelyn carried on unknowingly. "He asked for more volunteers, though I doubt anyone different offered. If you ask me, some of them folk are afraid of you. If you don't watch out they'll start calling you a witch."  
  
Catherine swallowed the last morsel of bread. "First an angel, then a lady and now a witch. Besides, they are not afraid of me, they are afraid of the soldiers. At least, I'd like to think that's all that they are afraid of."  
  
"Well can you blame them?" One of the other women piped up. "You may be doing a world of good out here child, but you are playing with oil and fire. Mixing Rebels and Redcoats; only asking for trouble."  
  
"Oh Hannah, you know I never treat someone if they do not agree with my rules."  
  
Baldric looked up from his plate. "What about Gabriel Miss Catherine? He was unconscious when James brought him in, what did he say about these rules?"  
  
"Oh for goodness sake! Gabriel does not know about my rules, or rather rule. If a man is that close to death then I just do what I can for them, never mind some silly rule. I treat them and sort out the rest later. Up until now there has been no trouble, as Gabriel has not come in contact with any of the Redcoats. He has voiced no concern, and he does know that I treat every man I can, colour of clothes non-withstanding. If it pleases you I will inform him before Mister Martin leaves. Are you pacified now?" Catherine glared at them, her second piece of bread half-way to her mouth.  
  
"Yes Miss Catherine." Baldric answered meekly. "I was just wondering what we should do if someone comes in while you were resting."  
  
"Wake me UP!"  
  
In the sudden silence that followed Catherine's outburst you could almost hear her heart beating in her chest. Only Evelyn dared to say anything.  
  
"Why Catherine St. Stevens only two days ago I said to Patricia Wright inside a church that not only were you kind-hearted, but that you would never even raise your voice to a fly. If I didn't know you take such good care of everyone else, I would swear that you have stopped taking care of yourself. When did you sleep last?"  
  
"Yesterday morning for an hour."  
  
"Good heavens child! Go upstairs and sleep!"  
  
Catherine pushed her chair back, standing so abruptly that she knocked her chair over. Gathering up her skirts she said, "I expect some of the men who are nearly healed will be in themselves to fetch some food, you can send one of them back out to do a count of how many need food brought to them. Baldric, will you check in on the Martins?"  
  
"Of course. Are you going to rest?"  
  
"No. You heard what I said to Amy before. I will check on the rest of the men and then Gabriel, and once Mister Martin leaves I will reconsider. Evelyn did the church send more supplies?"  
  
Shaking her head regretfully Evelyn said softly. "No my dear, I am afraid not."  
  
"I had figured as much. It is well that I ripped the last of my petticoats last night." To the gasps and cries of dismay, Catherine left the kitchen, passing by a now quiet parlour. As she was about to step out onto the porch, she heard a voice call her back.  
  
"Excuse me Catherine." Benjamin said quietly. "Gabriel is of the opinion that he should leave with me to join in the battle."  
  
"Absolutely not!" She pushed past Benjamin and back into the interior of the house. "Gabriel Martin under no circumstances will you leave this house with the intent of going to fight with my permission! Do you plan on living through this war? Or have my efforts to save your life been in vain?"  
  
"You would not understand!" Gabriel screamed at her. "They say you are a patriot, yet you save those who oppose the fight for freedom. You sit here, far away from the field of battle and you think you can order me to stay here. This next battle could turn the tide of the war and you a so-called patriot, would keep liberty's soldiers from fighting! I AM going to fight, you will not stop me."  
  
Catherine longed to shake him, hit him, anything to make him see he was being an idiot. "You Mister Gabriel, will not so much as STAND until you have received permission from either myself or your commanding officer. Benjamin, what are your orders for Corporal Martin?"  
  
"He is to stay in your care until you see fit to release him."  
  
Fixing Gabriel with an icy stare Catherine nodded. "Those orders come directly from your commanding officer. I trust you will not violate them."  
  
"No ma'am."  
  
"I believe I asked you not to call me that."  
  
"My apologies ma'am."  
  
Frowning in defeat Catherine turned towards the door. "Baldric will be in soon with food for the both of you. Enjoy the remainder of your time together."  
  
* * *  
  
It was noon before Catherine had a chance to rest again. The news of the upcoming battle had caused an uproar among her patients; for the first time she had been afraid her weather-worn porch would see the first shots of the new skirmish. Seven of her twelve patients had been cleared to leave, Baldric among them. Amy was glad; she thought that with only five men to care for, four of them nearly healed already, Catherine might have more opportunity to rest. It was true, she might. It was not however likely. All Catherine needed was for the next twenty-four hours to go well, for Gabriel's sake and then two or three days with no new patients. Calm for the next seventy-two hours, is it really too much to ask for?  
  
"Miss Catherine?" Baldric appeared at the door behind her. "Mister Martin would like to see you, he is preparing to leave."  
  
Catherine smiled slightly. "And you as well? Are you riding out with him Baldric?"  
  
"I had been planning on it, yes. But then I figured I could do more good here, helping you, then out on the field. Between you and me, I was never the greatest soldier. When Gabriel is ready to return, I will go with him."  
  
Grinning happily Catherine comfortably linked arms with the taller man as they entered the house. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that you will be staying. You Mister Baldric, have just made my day!"  
  
Gabriel and Benjamin were waiting in silence as the two entered the parlour.  
  
"Baldric tells me that you are leaving us Benjamin."  
  
"So it seems. I have been informed that I have a battle to return to. I will be taking four of your men back with me, and Baldric if he so wishes."  
  
Baldric shook his head, crossing to the blue upholstered chair he had claimed as his own over the past few days. "Thank you for the offer, but I have decided to stay behind for a while longer. I will return with Gabriel, whenever that is."  
  
Gabriel turned to Catherine, his facial expression far more complacent then before. "When do you think that is likely to be?"  
  
"That depends." She replied, settling herself in the old wingback chair she had spent many a night in. "Firstly I want you to remain immobile for the next twenty-four hours. If no fever develops, and you are able to stand WITH help and if the stitches hold, then we will begin trying to bring you back to form. The rest will depend entirely on you. It could be anything from one week to two months."  
  
"Two months!"  
  
She nodded the affirmative. "I highly doubt it will take you that long, I just want you to be aware the it COULD. The loss of blood you suffered could have caused damage to other organs, or the wound itself might develop an infection later on. Seventy-two hours is the duration of time we worry about the most but the risk of infection remains for weeks afterwards. As far as I can tell you will be fine, and likely moving around perfectly normal in a matter of weeks. However you cannot rush things. Rushing and disrupting the healing process could severely harm, or," she paused, staring directly at Gabriel to make sure he understood clearly. "It could conceivably kill you."  
  
Silence descended over the small group, Catherine's bone-chilling words shocking both Gabriel and Benjamin beyond immediate response. It was Gabriel who finally broke the horrible quiet however.  
  
"I thought you said I would be fine." He spat out the words viciously, as though they left an acrid taste in his mouth.  
  
"In all likelihood you will be. I am merely trying to stress that whatever actions you take will have consequences. I for one would like to see you return to the field of battle. You said before that I am not a true patriot, all because I want to keep you here when this battle occurs. Well answer me this, what if we win this war, but all the 'soldiers of freedom' die fighting for the freedom that is rightfully ours? Who then will stop the English from regaining control of the colonies?"  
  
"Not everyone will die."  
  
"It is not likely. Many however WILL. With every volley of shots fired, hundreds fall. The English have numbers double to ours. Is it impossible to think that they cannot kill you all? Absolutely not. Someone must be left to build a free America, one where we are able to make choices and govern ourselves. I will save as many as I can, and as quickly as I can. But in this case you are not ready. Will you still going to dispute my orders?"  
  
In a moment of perfect clarity Gabriel felt something stir inside of him. Catherine's talk of a free America, a true America moved in him the old desire to see this war won. As the moment passed a deep, terrible feeling of guilt pressed in around him, guilt for having felt an emotion other then sorrow. But with this gut-wrenching guilt came the smallest sliver of hope. Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps one day he would no longer live in misery. All this realization from the simple words of a fellow patriot, so much made clear because of passion for a joint cause. All this in only a few moments.  
  
"No. But I will return soon."  
  
Catherine smirked slightly, hovering between a smile and a frown. Something had changed in Gabriel's manner. Something that had brought him out of his shell. Something that had made him remember how good it is to live. "You will return when I tell you it is safe. As long as today goes well, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to return within a week or two."  
  
Benjamin stood abruptly, clearing his throat to gain their attention. "I will send word after the battle, and possibly some of the wounded, if that is alright with you Miss." He directed the last part to Catherine, who complied with a nod. Benjamin turned toward Baldric, extending his hand. Standing as well, Baldric grasped the hand in a friendly hand-shake, grinning like a fool. "It has been a pleasure meeting you Mister Baldric, and I would be honoured to stand by you on the field of battle. When Gabriel returns you will be welcomed into the our troop with open arms. And you Miss Catherine," Benjamin paused, turning to face Catherine. He again extended his hand, but after he shook it, he also placed a gentle kiss on her fingertips. "I would offer you my thanks, but I know you would not want them. Instead I will say goodbye, and say only that it will be here that I will return should I ever need aid. Until I can return, goodbye. And good luck. With a patient like Gabriel you will need it."  
  
With a happy grin, Benjamin again said goodbye to Gabriel, striding outside into the sun. Catherine followed to see him off, and Baldric remained with Gabriel. Both men were silent as the hoof beats faded, and soon only an echo remained. A whisper that spoke of a ghost's farewell. 


	4. All the King's Horses and all the King's...

Staying the Course

Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them.

Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.

A/N: Yea! to anyone who took the time to review. (For that matter anyone who bothered to read this! :) ) Shout-Out to Niko, Alaina, Patriot Heart, Chase M. Dakota and Julie Hodgson. Thanks for the great reviews! 

P.S. And Jonath Lee, but he's not reading this anymore so :P

Someone commented on Catherine appearing like a "Superwoman" or a being very Mary-Sueish because she's awake all the time. I'd just like to point out that she normally isn't up all the time (as was mentioned in Chapter Two) but only when she has a patient who is in such severe condition that it is necessary. I don't mind people telling me that Catherine is a Mary-Sue (It's your opinion) but do it for the right reasons, not something that's been explained like that. : )

Expect longer periods between updates, I don't get a lot of time on the computer. Or a lot of time to write for that matter.  Anyway, thanks to everyone and enjoy chapter four.

Ionuin  

 *         *          *

The dust had barely settled behind Benjamin before work began again as usual. Amy took the freshly washed bandages out back, and James went to the barn to check on the livestock. Gathering her skirts around her Catherine found herself shocked by the fact she had no work to do. She followed Amy's path to the line where white bandages swayed in the gentle breeze like royal banners over a parapet. She leaned against the ancient oak the line was anchored to sinking slowly down onto the carpet of cool, green grass. Amy glanced over at the relaxed young woman sitting nearby, it was a side of Catherine many did not believe existed. When all the bandages were hung to dry Amy bent down and grabbed her now empty basket, strolling over to where Catherine sat. 

"Why Miss Catherine, don't you have some work to do?" She questioned teasingly.

A strange look flitted across Catherine's heart-shaped face as though she couldn't decide whether she should smile or frown. "I do not know what to do." She admitted. "The men are all resting, many of those that were left behind will be gone by the end of the week. Baldric is with Gabriel; James is looking after the animals and you are out here. I feel odd not having something horribly important to do."

"Why don't you take that creature of yours out for a ride?"

A wistful look replaced Catherine's confused one as she glanced at the barn. "It has been a long time." She murmured. "But I need to stay close. If more men should arrive then I must be prepared."

"I should be used to your foolish ways by now, but I'm not. Very well, I will play along anyway." She sighed. "If you must be of some use whyn't you gather some eggs? I 'magine the ladies are getting impatient."

Catherine's face lit up like a child's at Christmas. Nearly leaping to her feet she scampered off to the henhouse, delighted at the idea of having something to do. 

Shaking her head Amy continued into the house. The empty basket she carried dropped and her hand flew to her mouth at the sight that greeted her. "Mister Gabriel you get back in that bed this minute! If Miss Catherine saw you right now she would pitch a fit!"

"Why would I do that?" Catherine approached the group from behind Amy, who blocked Baldric, James and Gabriel from her sight. "Amy? Why would I..."

The eggs that had been gathered in her skirts fell to the ground as she took in the scene before her. "Gabriel Martin what did I tell you earlier?!"

"That I could try to stand up later?" He questioned innocently.

Catherine jerked slightly, amazed she had no comeback. She observed his comfort of his stance and the fact he has both Baldric and James for support. "Very well. Let's see you try walking a few steps."

Startled, Gabriel began to frown nervously. A lock of hair like burnt sunshine fell into his face as he shifted uneasily under the intensity of her gaze. "Aren't you going to yell at me and tell me to get back in bed?"

She shook her head, swaying slightly as dizziness grabbed at her. "No." She replied after she had regained her balance. "I _did_ say that you could attempt to stand up and walk today. It is my own fault that I neglected to say that it should be under my scrutiny. I have no one to blame but myself. Come on, we will walk to the porch and back. It is time you get acquainted with the space that will be your new home- once you are sufficiently recovered of course."

Sidestepping the broken eggs Catherine led the procession out to the scrubbed wooden deck. For the first time Gabriel was able to see where he was and for the moment, there was not a more beautiful place in all the world.

The house was surrounded on all sides by a lush green ocean of grass. Which was only worn down in one spot, a straight line stretching out to the road. Tall, leafy maples danced in the gentle wind that bore the scent of pine down from the forests. After days of nothing but the scent of cut wood and soap every tantalizing scent was a tiny piece of heaven. His lids closed over his milk chocolate eyes as he stepped into the sun, and with a sigh he began to remember the carefree emotions of peace. Warm, gentle sunshine played across his cool skin, combing through his hair like fingertips reaching down to his scalp. With a final sigh of contentment, Catherine's voice broke through his reverie.

"Bring him over to the railing. Let him stand up on his own."

A soft smile took over Gabriel's face as they guided his hands to the sun-warmed rail. He opened his eyes and for a moment, instead of Catherine's land in front of him, he saw before him his childhood home. Long fields of waving wheat, fences penning in their four horses and three oxen, and in the far corner a large willow, shadowing his mother's grave.           

He was not supposed to have survived, Gabriel knew that know. Catherine had interfered with fate, but, to what end?

When Gabriel had finally shaken himself free of the reverie that had overtaken his conscious the peaceful scene that had greeted him mere minutes ago had been enveloped in a cloud of dust. 

Catherine stepped up next to him, trying to estimate the number of people approaching. "Amy will you gather all the clean bandages? Depending on how many are wounded we may need to send James into town for more supplies. Hurry please."

Gabriel continued to squint at the upcoming group. As tall feathered hats took shape he called, "Wait!"

"What is it Gabriel?"

Turning, one hand clutching his abdomen, Gabriel extended one hand toward James. "I need a gun. Please if you never do anything else for me, give me a gun."

Helplessly, James looked to Catherine, who was currently very confused. "Gabriel," she began, calmly and quietly. "Gabriel I would like it very much if you would let Baldric take you inside so you could rest. I believe that you are tired and it was no doubt difficult to do what you have done today. Is that alright?" Her voice was soothing, pitched an octave lower then normal, and smoother then silk. But Gabriel was not to be calmed.

"Those are the Green Dragoons! Be it my life or his, it will end today."

"Who is he?" Catherine began to panic, something she was not used to. It suddenly seemed that her home, her haven was unsafe. That thought unsettled her more then she dared admit.

"Tavington." Gabriel spoke with a voice strained by a hatred mixed with such a deep sadness that it hurt the ears of those it reached. "The Butcher. He killed my brother and he KILLED MY WIFE! Either give me a gun or I will attack him with my bare hands."

Catherine drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly, was not much. "Gabriel as you learned earlier today I have but one rule in this house. NO VIOLENCE. I also have your word that you will abide by that rule. If this Tavington does not agree, then he will not receive aid." 

"You do not understa-"

"Either you abide by that rule or you leave this premise NOW. If you cause problems we will not hesitate to shoot you. STAND DOWN!" Seeming to appear out of thin air, a new side to Catherine was shown to them. Gone was the passive woman who had tended them, and in her place was a character reminiscent of an Army General. In the deepest corner of his mind Gabriel began to fear what Catherine would do if she was ever truly angered. The results could be disastrous. 

In the tense silence that followed no one moved an inch. The imposing figures of the notorious Green Dragoons rode ever closer until at last they halted in front of the porch.

"Where is the man of the house?" The speaker rode at the front of the horsemen, his sharp features gleaming under the sun. Everything from the arrogant tilt of his head, to the half-human look in his eyes scared Catherine to the depths of her soul. Willing herself to stop shaking she stepped forward.

"There is no man here; only myself, my servants and my patients. Who be you?"

"I am Colonel William Tavington. As this home has no proper owner it now belongs to His Majesty's Army, along with it's bound occupants. I have been told that there is a doctor here. I was obviously misinformed. Where am I able to seek attention?"

Catherine glared up at the man, her anger temporarily becoming fiercer then her fear. "This is no doctor within miles- other then myself. Where are your wounded?"

For a moment Tavington's cool exterior faded; his expressionless face becoming more akin to that of a sullen adolescent then a hardened Colonel. "They are none of them wounded. I was thrown from my horse earlier and believe I dislocated my arm."

"Very well Colonel Tavington, you may dismount. Before we begin however you need to understand the rule of this house. The boundaries of my property mark the edges of neutral territory; any person who shows any signs of violence toward either the patients, Amy, James or myself will be asked to leave. If you do not comply immediately you will be killed. Do you agree?"

Tavington fixed Catherine with a fierce glare that pierced through Catherine's shell, filling her to the bottom of her consciousness with ice. She could feel every muscle in her body tense with an emotion so harsh she could not describe it. For a moment a shard of doubt penetrated her resolve, causing an unfamiliar unease. Steeling herself resolutely, she stood her ground.

In his cold unfeeling voice, much accustomed to being in command, Tavington agreed. Carefully sliding down from the saddle, he held his right arm awkwardly as he strode toward the steps.

Gabriel burst forward, letting go of the railing and nearly falling down the steps. Only his pride and his hatred for the man in front of him kept him upright. "You cannot treat him!"

"Gabriel Martin I suggest you stop this at once. Baldric please take Gabriel to the kitchen for something to eat; have Amy prepare something for you both. Colonel Tavington, if you please, the parlour is this-"

Catherine's unfinished sentence hung in the sticky air as she turned to look at Tavington. An almost predatory glint resided in his eye that had not been there before- yet his face was a mask of shock.

"I killed you." His voice gave nothing away, proving him to be as stone-like as his reputation made him out to be. 

"Not well enough apparently."

A feral grin crossed Tavington's face, the smile of a ghoul glimpsing tender flesh. "I will not make the same mistake again, I assure you."

"I believe you do not understand Colonel." Catherine stated, reaching into the deep pocket of her dirtied white apron, withdrawing two sheets of parchment. "If you would be so kind as to take a look at this before you begin attacking my patients, you might understand what I meant when I said this property is neutral territory." She stepped forward, holding out the first piece of parchment with shaking fingers.

"What are you afraid of Miss?" Tavington asked glibly, taking the parchment with a leather gloved hand.        

"Nothing that cannot be overcome."

Tavington gave Catherine a surprised look, as though he hadn't been amused by something in so long that he had forgotten how to smile and now that something finally amused him, he didn't know what to do. But the moment passed, as all moments do and once again Catherine found herself staring into the stony visage that chilled her so. No one should look that un-human.

Studying his sharp features as he in turn studied the parchment she had handed him Catherine was surprised to discover what it was he reminded her of. The fey. Her mother's tales of the Good People, the faeries of the Otherland came back to her in a rush as the shape angles of this man's face stared down at her. 

"We, the undersigned, leaders of the Loyalist Army and the Colonial Army, respect the barriers of the St. Stevens property as neutral territory. No members of either army has permission to show any acts of aggression while inside the aforementioned boundaries, and any forms of defences deemed necessary but the occupants of the St. Stevens residence will not be questioned. General Lord Cornwallis, General Burwell." Tavington stared at the strange creature in front of before him. 'Who is this woman?' He asked himself, turning the information he had about her over in his head. The varied information painted a very unclear picture.

In front of him stood a woman who had admitted her fear of him, yet who had the gall to approach a general of the English army. Perhaps he would be able to find a use for her. Killing her would certainly be a pity.

"I am surprised the General Cornwallis has not yet sent word that this has been revoked. In any case, I have my orders."

Being a man with many enemies, Tavington had a loaded pistol with him at all hours of the day and night. For the first time since the agreement he held in his hand had been signed, Catherine was afraid to be on her own property. 

"Imagine thinking you could stop a bullet with a piece of parchment." Tavington sneered as he targeted Gabriel. "Give your brother my regards."

Two guns fired together, and as Catherine turned to see who had fired the second she felt the black edging her conscious overtake her. Already gone, she never saw the ground as it rushed up to meet her.

***        


	5. Crystalline

Staying the Course  
  
Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them. Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.  
  
A/N: Yea! to anyone who took the time to review. (For that matter anyone who bothered to read this! :) ) Shout-Out to Niko, Alaina, Patriot Heart, Chase M. Dakota, Julie Hodgson, Cierra, Dyrad Day, and Iarejedi. Thanks for the great reviews! P.S. And Jonath Lee, but he's not reading this anymore so :P  
  
I am SOOOOO sorry for the long wait, but hey if you hate me now, you can tell me in a REVIEW! It's also kind of short, so I apologize again, but chapter six should be longer. (Although I'm not making any promises about length of time before it's updated again.) Enjoy!  
  
Ionuin  
  
* * *  
  
Amy paced the length of the room, wringing her hands and berating herself harshly. "I should have stopped her long ago, but she wouldn't listen to none of it. You've seen what she's like, pushing herself inhumanly, it's just not right. Half the town folks are scared to death of her, even as a child she was odd- precocious. My own mother would make me stay inside when she came into town with her father. I don't know why, she's just a girl still- oh this is all my fault!"  
  
"Amy no one could have known this would happen. Catherine was just too stubborn. Who else could have gotten both Cornwallis and Burwell's signatures without being hung as a spy?"  
  
"I just can't stand to think of her up there. All alone."  
  
"She is not alone. My son is up there with her."  
  
The voices were distant; coming from somewhere far below where she was. For that matter, where WAS she? It felt like she was on the bottom of a lake, searching vainly through the murk around her- yet everything she wanted to reach was down still further.  
  
The words she was hearing were clear enough, but the voices themselves were muted by whatever lay between them. Slowly opening her eyes, Catherine took a moment to adjust to the dim light the fading sun threw into the window. She began to lift her arm but was stopped when she came in contact with a bowed head of golden curls. At the slight contact, Gabriel looked up a peaceful smile on his face.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Catherine blinked languidly, a cat like smile playing across her lips as she began to fully wake up. "What happened?"  
  
"You fainted."  
  
She smirked at Gabriel's non-committal answer, awake enough to care, but still asleep enough to find it amusing. "I was aware of that. I meant what happened to the others. Obviously you are not dead, unless I am as well. Who shot the second gun? Did Tavington hit anyone? What happened after I fell?"  
  
Gabriel pushed himself into a half-standing position, looking towards the door. "Perhaps someone else should explain it."  
  
"Gabriel Martin SIT DOWN!" Catherine may have been stuck in a bed, but she was still commanding. Gabriel sat. "Tell me."  
  
With a deep sigh, Gabriel began. "My father was riding past town when he saw the Green Dragoons on their way here. He sent the rest of the men ahead of him, while he hid in the woods and waited for the to pass him. Then he followed behind them to make sure we were all fine. He shot Tavington." Gabriel paused, unsure of whether or not he should continue. "Tavington is dead."  
  
A moment passed in silence; Catherine staring straight at the wall, Gabriel transfixed by his hands.  
  
"Who did he shoot?" She questioned, breaking the quiet.  
  
"No one. He was aiming for me, but Father hit him first. The shot went wide and hit the side of the house."  
  
Catherine nodded, satisfied. "And how long have I been out?"  
  
Gabriel opened his mouth to answer as Amy burst into Catherine's room.  
  
"You're awake! Oh thank goodness." Rushing to the side of the bed Amy knelt down, grasping onto Catherine's hand. "How do you feel? Are you alright?"  
  
"I am fine Amy. How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"A day."  
  
Catherine jerked upright, the covers of her bed falling down to her waist. "A day?!" She exclaimed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as she threw the covers off to the side. With an amused chuckle Gabriel noticed the lack of sheets. Gone to make bandages no doubt. He glanced up in time to see Catherine on her way out the door. Clearing his throat loudly, Gabriel stopped her mid-step, making her turn around.  
  
"What?" She demanded.  
  
"I just thought you might want to umm-" He paused, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Change."  
  
Catherine looked down in surprise in the thin linen nightgown she wore, blushing the same way Gabriel was.  
  
The two looked up at each other for a moment, holding the others eyes in their own gaze. Amy looked on in interest, a scheming smirk flitting across her face. Suddenly Gabriel lowered his eyes, his blush deepening as he stood abruptly.  
  
"I should go downstairs. Let the others know how you are." He turned when he reached the door, bracing himself against it as he looked back at Catherine. "It is good to see you are alright. We were all worried."  
  
His footsteps echoed on the stairs, Catherine just staring at the door until Amy bustled by her. "You care for him. What would you like to wear?"  
  
Catherine jerked as though struck, confused by the strange change of topics. She whipped around to face Amy, who was currently rummaging through her pitifully few dresses, searching for something for Catherine to wear. "Amy how could you even suggest such a thing? Gabriel has just lost his wife. The idea is preposterous."  
  
"But you didn't deny that you cared for him."  
  
Catherine stared at Amy in shock, protesting indignantly. "I most certainly did. I clearly said that I- Oh my God. Amy I didn't say it."  
  
"No child. You didn't."  
  
"But-but-I cannot care for him."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Catherine stopped, staring at Amy as she searched for a response. "It would not be- right. I- and he- and oh Amy I'm so confused."  
  
Smiling with wisdom beyond her years, the young black woman held out a dress toward her. "How about this one?"  
  
The gown was made of beautifully patterned cotton, much unlike the usual linen dresses Catherine wore. It was light blue and an intricate pattern of vines wound about it. The low collar was lined with lace, and the butterfly sleeves were gorgeous but impractical. It had a full skirt, meant to be worn with a petticoat, bloomers and underskirt. It had been a gift to her from her father; he had found it on his last trip to England before the war began.  
  
Catherine sighed as she stared at the beautiful gown. "Amy even if it was sensible to wear something like that while I was working, which it is not, all of my under things have been torn up to make bandages."  
  
Amy smiled conspiratorially, as Catherine caught on. "Amy! You didn't-"  
  
"Well I couldn't let all your pretty things go to waste. So I grabbed a few things before you could shred everything." Amy glanced at Catherine innocently. "Are you mad at me Miss Catherine?"  
  
Catherine tried to school her features into a scowl, but a happy smile kept creeping through. She held her arms out for the dress, clutching the soft material to her chest as her mind tore between the two sudden urges to either cry or laugh. "Oh Amy!" She gasped out, a soft hiccoughing laugh escaping her throat. "I am most definitely not angry at you. I don't know what I am anymore." Hysterical laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep within her body, sending the first few tears tumbling from her eyes. Visibly shaking from the force of the gasping sobs Catherine sank to her knees, her face buried in the gown she clutched in her white-knuckled fingers.  
  
Amy stood in front of he, unsure of what to do. Catherine had always been the comforter, not the person that needed to be comforted. In all her time working beside Catherine, Amy had never once seen more then a single tear leak from her eye. The cascade falling now both stunned and frightened her. Catherine the Untouchable was crying whole-hearted tears. And there was no one to stop them from falling.  
  
Finally dropping beside her, Amy gathered the young woman in her arms; all the while remaining silent. Catherine tensed at the contact, every muscle in her body ready to send her sprinting away. If Amy had stayed mute she might have calmed, but the softly uttered, "It will be alright," whipped up in Catherine a furious frenzy: a volatile mix of deep-seated confusion, anger and fear; a mix pertaining to the anarchy that followed.  
  
Like a bow loosed from an arrow, Catherine sprang towards the door, stumbling and nearly falling down the stairs in her rush to get away. In a blur of wind and tears she blew past Benjamin and Gabriel, Baldric and James; throwing the front door open and careening around the side of the house.  
  
The grass was a thick green carpet beneath her feet, the wind drying the tears that still fell from her eyes. She could hear the surprised shouts from the men in the house, but knew even in her panic that Amy would take care of everything. Catherine ran along the side of the house, heading toward the stable. The large door squealed and stuck as she threw her whole weight against it- trying to force it open. Once inside, the oppressive mustiness of the space pushed down on her. She leaned against the partially open door, letting her body sag against it as her eyes adjusted. In the corner stall near her stood a large chestnut stallion, the nameplate above his head reading Kojak.  
  
"Hello Kojak." Catherine said, slipping into the stall and laying her head against his neck. "Everything is falling apart all of the sudden. I really thought I could do this, that I could make a difference. I guess I was a fool. Oh Kojak." Catherine sighed, standing up and looking out the small window. "I wish Father were here; at least he'd know what to do." Catherine fell silent, leaning against Kojak once more. That was how she was when Gabriel found her fifteen minutes later.  
  
"Catherine?" He called through the small opening in the door. "Catherine, are you in here?"  
  
Catherine swiped her hands over her eyes, vainly attempting to wipe away all traces of her earlier tears. "Yes." She answered. "I'm in here with Kojak."  
  
"Are you alright?" Gabriel questioned, as he squeezed through the door.  
  
"I will be fine- Gabriel be CAREFUL!" She scolded, as she watched him push against the door heedlessly.  
  
"What are we going to do now?" He asked, once he stood clear of the door.  
  
Catherine looked down, stepping forward and out of Kojak's stall. Standing before Gabriel with her eyes downcast she spoke five words, that broke her heart. "We are going to leave."  
  
* * *  
  
Catherine's face was funereal as she moved through the silent house. Outside, the wagon was being loaded with all of the left-over supplies, and all of Catherine's dearest keepsakes had been moved into the cellar for protection. James would be back from town soon, back from informing Reverend Haskill and the church ladies that they were leaving.  
  
Catherine would not be welcomed back after the war; she pondered the obscurity of that fact as she danced her fingertips over the well-worn mahogany furnishings. No, when she left here, her home, as she knew it would disappear. Already thought of as odd, precocious and, sometimes, a witch- a woman from the front would earn the title of whore as well.  
  
She stood in the doorway of the parlour, staring into the bright room. Here she had a place, a purpose. When she left and made her way to the front she would become a non-entity, an encumbrance. That was what happened to all women were when they stuck their noses into a man's place. It would be hard, Catherine knew, but here- here was lost to her.  
  
The furniture would fade with time, and so would the feeling of home, of security. One last single tear slipped down her face, as she surveyed for the final time the room that had served as a hospital, a bed chamber and a study. Here was where the world of medicine had come alive for her; first, in the tattered medical books that had been her father's, then as a man lay bleeding to death before her. She hadn't had anyone else then, just herself and a tenacious knowledge of healing. How it had grown in the past two years amazed even her. Her fingers hovered for a moment, an inch above the table by the fire, before she turned abruptly on her heel and rushed out into the sultry heat of the day. She climbed onto the back of the wagon and faced the road. The wheels started to turn and she quelled the tantalizing desire to look back.  
  
She couldn't look back. For her, there was nothing to look back to.  
  
* * *  
  
PS. Sorry to anyone who loves Tavvy. (I think he's a fantastic bad guy too) but he had to die. DEATH TO THE EVIL BIRD-HAT MAN! (Hehehe, Hi Casey!) 


	6. Different in Blood

**Author's Note:**   
I'm SORRY!!!!! Computer problems, exams, and vacation have kept me from getting this done. Hope you forgive me, hope you enjoy the new chapter!   


The road stretched on before the small caravan like the ocean opening up from the smallest stream. Catherine was grateful to the soldiers, who seemed to invent problems for her to check out. After a brief, cold supper, she told them, with a small smile, to rest, she would be alright. Looking behind now, far away from her home, she could imagine the rambling white building she had left. Somewhere on the never-ending road her journey in life had lead her to, there was a place she had called home. When she was able to return to it, would it still be there? Then again, would she ever get the chance to go back? Carefully sitting down, and arranging her skirt around her, Catherine opened up the one, foolish treasure she had allowed herself to bring along. Her bookmark sat idly at Act II, scene i. 

Just as she had begun to read, Gabriel spoke up from the other side of the wagon. "What are you reading?" 

Startled, her hand flew to her mouth, a small gasp escaping there. "Gabriel!" 

"Sorry Miss." 

"I thought you were asleep." 

"You thought wrong." 

A grin crept onto Catherine's face, despite her attempts to smother it. "Quite right. Now then, I doubt you know this author. But, perhaps I am mistaken." A childish smile of delight took over Catherine's face as, aloud, she began to read. _"Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain/ As in revenge, have sucked up from the sea/ Contagious fogs; which falling in the land/ Hath every pelting river made so proud/ That they have overborne their continents"_ Catherine glanced up slyly from beneath her bowed head, amazed to see Gabriel with his eyes closed in a reverie, entranced by Shakespeare's eternal words. 

Gabriel opened his eyes slowly, matching Catherine's gaze. _"The course of true love never did run smooth/ But either was it different in blood-"_

"You DO know Shakespeare! How wonderful!" 

Gabriel nodded, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. "When I was younger, my mother read to us every night before sending us to bed. No matter how much of a menace we had been during the day, we always got read to. It was the one time of day my brothers would stop playing tricks, or teasing my sisters. I would rather hear her voice again, then anything else in the world." 

"I am afraid I am a poor substitute, but, would you like to hear more?" 

"Please." 

In the fading light of the day, the day the world had changed, a friendship was formed around mischievous Puck, proud Titania and Oberon, the lovers four, and the duke with his Amazonian bride. As the sun fell from the sky for another day, and the moon rose above them, beautiful in it's fullness, Catherine found herself enjoying herself, if only for a moment, as the front loomed before her; and somewhere far behind her- home. 

* * *

The front was a hive of activity, even from a distance. Stopping a mile away from the Continental encampment, Catherine asked for a rider to go ahead and ask for safe passage through the camp for the injured redcoats- _just_ until Gabriel was settled with the doctors, and Baldric re-enlisted. Benjamin agreed, speeding off on the winding path. 

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of hoof beats echoed through the woods. Nervously, Catherine left the fire and food she had been tending to, striding briskly to the front of the wagon. 

Gabriel propped himself up on his elbows, trying vainly to see over the driver's seat. "Has Father returned already?" He questioned. 

"No," Catherine replied, almost absent-mindedly. "There are too many horses, unless he thought we needed reinforcements. In any case it is far too soon. Benjamin would only just have arrived at the camp." 

Five soldiers on horseback thundered up the path before them, obviously having not expected them. For a quick moment, Catherine sent her eyes heaven ward, thanking God that the tell-tale red and blue coats were hidden away beneath the wagon's seat. 

"You there! Where do you think you are going?" 

"Why the camp, good sir." 

"Aye, well, which one?" 

Catherine smiled disarmingly. "Why, both, naturally." 

Startled, the foremost soldier muttered something to the soldier on his left. At their laughter, Catherine felt her confidence slipping. 

"So you are an un-loyal whore then? A contradiction in terms perhaps, but a beautiful one. When you come by our camp, make sure to find me; I'm sure my wife never need know." He grinned, his rotted teeth laughing at her, his shrewd eyes leering. Disgusted, Catherine stepped backwards. At the movement, the men burst out laughing once more. 

"You are afraid of me, whore?" Never in her entire life had Catherine been called a whore. A witch, perhaps, or an angel, sometimes a peculiar person, or maybe the devil incarnate by those who distanced themselves furthest from her, but never before had she been titled a whore. 

"Not so much afraid of you, sir; more afraid that my patients might injure themselves further- should they attack you, that is." 

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Baldric stepped up beside Catherine. "You would profit from listening to her, Jones. And addressing her properly, certainly not as a whore." 

All men are superstitious, whether they admit it or not. When the ghost of your comrade, a man you saw fall with your _own_ eyes, speaks to you, you shut up and listen. 

"Baldric? Steven Baldric? But you- you died." 

"Actually, I did not. My comrades left me to die in a blood-soaked field, and less then half an hour after the retreat, a man and woman rode up. The woman dismounted and asked any man who was still breathing and conscious if he would object to being treated alongside the soldiers we were fighting against. I ignored the question in the beginning, asking instead if she was an angel. This woman, she smiled and told me no, she like I, was nothing more then a mere mortal- but with her help, I would live to fight another day. I agreed with her demands, and soon found myself at her manor, recovering, and later, helping. I began trying to save the men I had tried to kill." 

Jones began to laugh. "Are you trying to tell me, Steven Baldric, that you were saved by a woman? Perhaps you hit your head when you fell, for you are certainly not all well." 

"Jones my friend, I am better then ever. If you will dismount, I will introduce you to some people." 

Laughing, Jones did so, following Baldric to the wagon. 

Clasping a hand on Jones's shoulder, Baldric began the introductions. "Friends, this is Private Walter Jones, of the Continental Army. Jones, this is Corporal Spencer Healy, of the British Regulars; Private John Wesley, also from England; and Private Joshua Barrington, the final Englishman. This fine man is James; a friend of Miss Catherine's, this lady is Amy. The foolish man trying to jump down from the wagon is Corporal Gabriel Martin. I believe you have heard of his father, Captain Benjamin Martin. Captain Martin is currently on his way to see General Burwell about safe passage for our English friends. Everyone you see before you, with the exception of Miss Catherine herself, James and Amy, were saved and cared for by Catherine St. Stevens. Insult her again, and I will kill you myself." 

A stunned expression clouded Walter Jones's face. The past minute had brought a riot of color to it- red at the mention of the redcoats, funnily enough, white as Baldric explained Gabriel's lineage, and purple with anger at his final comment. "You would kill one of your comrades? I never thought of you as a traitor to our cause." 

Baldric's normally cheerful demeanour melted away in the heat of his anger. "The _comrades_ you speak of left me in a field to die. Catherine St. Stevens, a country woman with no exceptional medical training saved my life when there was no reason for me to be in fear for it. I took a bullet in the leg yet it almost killed me. Until I am re-enlisted, my cause is hers, and she is my captain. These men you see before you, _they_ are my comrades, and should you try and attack any one of them I will show you how well I took to soldiering." 

Jones spat on the ground at Baldric's feet, an ugly snarl adorning his face. "I will not forget this when you return, and I will see to it that none of those you called friends do either. You once fought for the cause of freedom, and now you have befriended those who keep us from it." 

"Do you think most of the soldiers give a rat's ass about this war?" Pte. John Wesley questioned, ignoring Corporal Spencer's signals to shut up. "Half of England doesn't even know the name of this god-forsaken piece of Earth, but our commanders tell us to fight so we do it. Baldric called you a soldier, but you must not be if you can't even understand that. Our king ordered us here, and so our officers brought us. We aren't fighting for a cause, not truly, but we are fighting, and if you plan to beat us, you'll need to want your freedom more then anything, because this is our life. After this battle we will simply move on to another one, and again, and again. And if you insult either Baldric or Miss Catherine again, I'll be looking for you on the field." 

Abruptly, Jones turned, walking back to his men at the front of the wagon. As he passed Catherine, who was vainly trying to get Gabriel to lie back down, he murmured in her ear. "Whore or no, you do seem awfully skilled at getting men on their backs." 

At his comment, Catherine blushed, the deep red that flushed her cheeks alerting Gabriel to her embarrassment. "If you have something to say to me, Private Jones, you should say it aloud. Anyone who whispers comments to my back appears incapable of calling himself a man." 

His nostrils flaring, Jones nonetheless spoke louder. "I should think that you have become accustomed to having men whisper at you from behind your back, madam." 

"You sir, are treading deep water." 

"How dare you talk back to an officer of the Continental Army, you impertinent whore!" 

"If you can think of nothing else to say to me, you may as well leave, for I have heard all of it already." 

Furious, Jones raised his hand, preparing to bring it across her cheek with a vicious backslap. With a shout, the soldiers piled out of the wagon, and away from the fire. Catherine glared at the sternly. 

"Do not make trouble if there is none to be had. The Continental soldiers I have met before have all been real men. A real man will never hit a woman." 

Before Catherine even turned back to Jones, his slap threw her back against the wagon with it's force. Amy rushed to her side, as Jones found himself at the mercy of five soldiers and James. The four men Jones had rode up with began to dismount, but Gabriel rounded on them with a snarl. 

"Remain on your horses!" 

At first they ignored him, until he screamed at them again. "I am Corporal Gabriel Martin and the highest ranking officer at the moment. Stay on your horses or face dismissal from the army." 

Obediently, they sat, and as suddenly as he had rounded on them he turned again to face Jones. If he had not been so angry at that moment, then he would have laughed. In a tangle of arms, legs and dust, only the barest flashes of Jones' bright blue coat were visible. 

Catherine felt herself struggle for breath in the first few moments after Jones' hand met her face, so great was the shock. There was no pain at first, just warmth on her cheek that slowly began to burn. Furiously trying to hold back the tears that threatened to tumble from her eyes, she answered Amy's frantic questions. "I am fine Amy. Fine." 

"Oh no you are not Miss. You sit for a moment, sit and look at what you have created." 

Confused, Catherine pushed herself up straighter before glancing around. The sight that met her eyes nearly sent the first drop down her face. It was only the furious desire that _that_ man not see her cry that stopped her. Six men circled Jones, and had they been wearing their uniforms, they would have made a riot of colour against the browns and greens of the forest. Side by side stood Continental, English and ex-slave. Red and blue, white and black. In her defence they fought together, heedless of race, heedless of war. For her. Because she had saved their lives. 

Popping out from behind the tree, Joshua Barrington gave the rope that tied Jones's hands an extra tug. "I would recommend skinning him alive and boiling him up for soup, if I was not so sure his rebel body would taste like horseshit." He paused, glancing up at Gabriel and Baldric. "No offence meant." 

"None taken." 

"You must be hungry indeed if you would consider _him_ fit to eat." Pte. Wesley said blandly. 

"Oh my goodness, I forgot about the food!" 

Standing abruptly, Catherine had not taken two steps before an outburst of noise halted her. 

"Catherine, sit down!" 

"Please Miss Catherine, I was only joking!" 

"Excellent job Barrington, you've gone and made her think she has to tend to _us_ now!" 

Silence followed Baldric's statement, absurdly backwards in its truth. Shaking her head, Catherine again began to walk back toward the fire. Gabriel's soft voice stopped her once more. 

"You do not need to be strong for us Catherine." 

With her back to the small group her voice was barely audible. "I know that Gabriel, sometimes I have to be strong for myself." 

Tension began to filter through the group, prompting Baldric and James to fetch the rifles from the wagon, and Gabriel to set up guards around the mounted men. Jones he watched himself. Jones and Catherine that is. 


	7. Full Frontal Pt A

Staying the Course  
  
Disclaimers: Right, I don't own anything. The inspiration for this story (aside from Heath Ledger lol) was two other stories "Ceisd mo Cridhe (Darling of my heart)" by heathethanoshkosh and A Little Twist of Fate by Nids. Both of them are fantastic and if you enjoy this one, I can almost guarantee that you will enjoy theirs. To Nids and heathethanoshkosh I loved both of your stories and will continue reading them. Rating: If you watched the movie you can definitely read this. 14 to put an age on it.  
  
Author's notes: I am soooooo sorry! I started grade 11 this year, and have learned that I suddenly need to work. So between my job, working on about ten other projects, fundraising for my band trip to New York, and school, basketball and sleep, my life has been a little hectic. In any case, break is next week, and as long as I finish editing by the 22nd, I should be able to update once or twice more before the end on the year. BIG WARNING! DO NOT COUNT ON IT! In any case, thank you to- mak4 (Alaina), Dryad Dray, Elf Boy's Sister, deedee23 and Patriotfan. Enjoy the chapter!  
  
***  
  
Benjamin found himself smiling wider and wider as he raced through the camp. Searching for a sign of his militia, he turned so abruptly upon hearing his name that he nearly fell off his horse.  
  
"Jean!"  
  
"'Allo Benjamin. What 'ave you discovered?"  
  
Sliding down from his horse, Benjamin could barely contain his joy. "Alive Jean. Alive AND well. All thanks to Miss St. Stevens. I need to see Harry, but they are just outside the camp boundaries."  
  
Jean raised one eyebrow. "'ho is this they?"  
  
"Miss St. Stevens and her companions. I believe she said that there are four Englishmen, Gabriel and Baldric, another rebel, and two of the people who have been helping her. She wants to ask Harry to grant the English soldiers safe passage through the camp."  
  
Affronted, Jean visibly tensed before Benjamin. "She wants to bring Englishmen here? Is she alright?" In a motion that seemed far more comical than it actually was, coming from the very proper French man, Jean motioned to his head, indicating the believed mental illness.  
  
"Just wait until you meet her Jean, I don't think anyone would believe that she is not insane. But she is a hero nonetheless; she has successfully mixed the Englishmen and the Continentals. Not that there was no problems of course, but she took both in. Treated both, never looked at what colour the soldiers were wearing- if the stories are to be believed. So sad that it had to end as it did." He paused, drawing in a breath. Jean waited for him to elaborate, but was met with disappointment as Benjamin began walking away.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To find Harry! The sooner we get this cleared up, the sooner my son comes back!" With a grin no sight could wipe away stuck to his face, Benjamin began striding along- tempted by his mood and the sun to whistle as he had when he had farmed.  
  
* * *  
  
The sight of Benjamin Martin approaching with a smile lifted a burden from Harry Burwell's heavy laden shoulders he hadn't known he carried. "It went well?" he questioned, as his friend entered hearing distance.  
  
"Very. Gabriel is alive, Harry. She has made him well again."  
  
"I find it hard to picture your son acting docile for any doctor, even a female one."  
  
"I said he was well Harry. If he was acting docile then he wouldn't be well would he? He is every bit as stubborn as he ever was, but she seems to thrive on his comments- as if she knows that if they stop no medicine will help him get well."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Benjamin pointed toward the distant tree line. "A mile in that direction, with Miss St. Stevens herself, her helpers and- I believe- four British soldiers. I may be misremembering."  
  
Harry's eyebrows shot up at Benjamin's final comment. "British? Why?"  
  
"You told me yourself that she took care of soldiers from both sides, did you believe she would leave them?"  
  
"I still don't know what she's doing here."  
  
"It was no longer safe at her home, she came with the men. Aside from Gabriel, the rest are healed. She sent me to ask from safe passage for the Englishmen, so that she could get Gabriel settled first. Once that is taken care of, she plans to ride over to the British encampment and see that the other men are welcomed back. Where she goes from there, I can safely say that I have no idea. I will however, be watching with interest. Shall we take a ride? I can explain the rest on the way, but I am rather anxious to get back to my son."  
  
Harry held up one hand to halt Benjamin's retreat. "If you don't mind, I have one more question. What happened at her home?"  
  
Eyes darkening like the sky just before a fast approaching storm, Benjamin answered in a slow, measured voice. "Tavington attempted to violate the treaty ensuring the neutral territory of her lands. I would not see another of my son's die by his bullet." Drawing in a deep breath, Benjamin motioned towards the makeshift stables nearby. "Shall we go?"  
  
* * *  
  
The ride back from camp had been a joyful one, neither Burwell or Benjamin mentioning the upcoming battle once. Instead, Benjamin amicably answered Harry's many questions about Catherine.  
  
"What would she do if we refused the Englishmen safe passage?"  
  
Benjamin frowned. "I would wager on her running up the white flag and depending on the English code of conduct, and Cornwallis's desire to be seen as a gentlemen, and taking our men into their camp. You are going to grant her safe passage though, correct?"  
  
Burwell took a moment to answer. "I believe so, however I would like to meet her first."  
  
"Father!" Gabriel's voice broke into Benjamin's response. "General Burwell! How are you sir?" At the sight of his General, Gabriel attempted to snap to attention- a fact that did not slip by Catherine.  
  
"Gabriel Martin if you do not get back in that wagon and lie down I will have Baldric drag you in there and sit on your feet! NOW!"  
  
With a grin at Benjamin, General Burwell dismounted. "I see what you mean about his stubbornness. And perhaps how she managed so long on her own."  
  
Leading their horses forward, the two approached Gabriel, who was attempting to fend off Catherine. "Hello father, general. DAMMIT WOMAN! That hurt!"  
  
"I am ecstatic to see that you agree that you are not all powerful. You are still healing, despite what you appear to believe, and if you expect to get well, you had better get your arse back in that wagon!"  
  
Shocked by her language, Gabriel froze. "Catherine!"  
  
"NOW GABRIEL!"  
  
Without another word Gabriel turned, exchanging a questioning look with Baldric as the man helped him up. "Is she alright?"  
  
Baldric shrugged. "She's dealt with a lot lately, everyone has a breaking point. She'll be fine. Why are you so worried about her?" Baldric's last question was asked with a cocky, knowing grin.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, nothing. Not if you mean nothing." Another knowing grin.  
  
"Baldric, I may never understand you."  
  
"You won't be the first."  
  
Shaking his head ruefully, Gabriel settled into the rough wooden planking of the wagon's floor, twisting as carefully as he could to make himself comfortable. He could lie to Catherine as much as he wanted- the pain in his abdomen couldn't. Laying his head against a bunched-up Red-coat, Gabriel strained to hear the conversation he was being forced to miss.  
  
Outside, Benjamin surveyed the immaculate camp with satisfaction. In front of the wagon, four soldiers sat atop horses, apparently having arrived just minutes before they had. The manner in which they were surrounded- almost as if the were being guarded- set off alarm bells in Benjamin's mind.  
  
Catherine herself had rushed away, "Just for a moment," after her initial greeting, striding confidently toward the group of men. Searching the camp for a reason for his restless unease, Benjamin's gaze fell on Catherine herself. And the waves of fair flowing free instead of tied back.  
  
'I'm getting paranoid.' He said to himself as Catherine approached once more. 'Everything is fine and I have Gabriel back. It's nothing if Catherine feels like wearing her hair loose for a day. I need to calm down.'  
  
The woman nearing the pair seemed slightly on edge. Nervously fiddling with the ends of her hair, Benjamin realized with a start that Catherine truly was very young. She could barely be past her twentieth year, and yet she had faced so much. This was the product of war; not the tears, or the blood, but the irrepressible nervousness of someone moving forward- unsure of how or why.  
  
His fatherly instincts kicking in, Benjamin drew the young woman to him in a sudden hug. Despite her initial shock, Catherine quickly relaxed into the embrace, vividly remembering a time, not so long ago, when she had felt so safe daily.  
  
"Thank you Benjamin." Catherine's voice was soft, not in the soothing way she spoke to her patients, but gratefully. The gratitude of someone who hadn't had reason to be properly grateful for far too long.  
  
"Excuse me!" Gabriel's voice broke through the sudden quiet, causing the entire camp, small though it was, to jerk to attention. "If I must be banished to the wagon, could you at least speak loudly enough for me to hear?"  
  
"If we do so, will you stay there?" Catherine's voice strengthened as she settled into the familiar territory of bargaining with difficult patients.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We have an accord then." As she turned back to the men in front of her, Catherine unconsciously slid her hair back behind her ear; revealing the darkening bruise Jones had bestowed on her.  
  
"Good God! Catherine what on Earth happened?"  
  
Her eyes darkened as she remembered the events of the past half hour. "I am afraid I had a disagreement with a guest."  
  
"Explain."  
  
Quirking one eyebrow at Benjamin's curt response, she nonetheless responded to the underlying fatherly tones of his voice.  
  
"Roughly fifteen minutes after you left, a man named Jones and his group showed up. He did not heed the warnings given."  
  
"What warnings? Catherine, if he hit you, wouldn't you have ignored some kind of warning?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, motioning with one hand toward the far side of the camp. "You may ask him yourself. He is currently tied to that tree. James is watching him now that Gabriel is resting. However, might we finish with our business first? I would like to get underway."  
  
Nodding his consent, Harry looked in the direction Catherine had pointed out. The man he had believed was just sitting was indeed tied to the tree. So she was not a woman to cross. He would remember that. "I understand that you wish to bring several redcoats into our camp. You can understand why I am wary of allowing you to do so." "Of course. They would however stay in the wagon, and it would only be for the time it took to get Gabriel settled."  
  
"Don't forget Baldric!" Gabriel shouted. "I'm not the only one here!"  
  
They ignored him.  
  
"If you do not feel you can do it, I will not hold it against you. I will however take Gabriel AND Baldric with me into the British camp. I would rather not, especially considering the fact that I am also returning Lieutenant Tavington's body."  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "Yes, I heard about that. I am sorry for your misfortune."  
  
"You had nothing to do with that. I am only grateful for the time I was able to spend freely on my own land. Now, I do not mean to rush you, but I would like to get moving. Your decision?"  
  
Harry looked around a moment longer, taking in the sight of the men. Suddenly they were just men; nothing distinguished one from the other. They could very well die at the other's hand on the battlefield, but just for a second- you couldn't tell. He smiled at the woman before him. "You are welcome." 


	8. Full Frontal Pt B

Author's Note: I don't know what in the name of all things Deppian and pretty made me update this, but here it is. I make no excuses for not finishing this oh let me think… two years ago, but I didn't. This is now my grade twelve year and before I graduate I want to tie up all my loose ends. Therefore the plan is this: I will be completing this story, but not in chapters (at least I don't plan on it.) When it is complete I will remove all of the previous chapters and post the entire story at once. If you would rather have chapters than let me know in a review. This chapter is not all that long, but it's late and I'm tired. I generally put more effort into my original works, so keep that in mind while waiting for more of this story. I do however, love this, and I will (eventually) finish it. I know where it's going and I just need to time to write it. Thank you very much, and I await your flames. ;)

S-S-S

Chapter 8: Full Frontal Pt. B

S-S-S

At General Burwell's words the small camp became a flurry of movement. The men sitting on horseback were sent back to the Continental encampment, and Jones was released from his tree in order to accompany them—under the strict command that he was to meet with Harry after supper that night. Gabriel attempted to climb down from the wagon inconspicuously and help with the preparations, but at the ardent "NO!" screamed at him from not only Catherine and his father, but from Baldric and Harry as well, he decided to try and deal with the fact that he was, currently, an invalid.

It took only minutes for the group to be on their way and then the jolt of the wagon moving forward shook a smile onto Gabriel's face. The fight toward freedom continued.

S-S-S

Baldric refused to allow Catherine to journey into the English base without the accompaniment of a soldier who would return with her. And so, white flag of peace held high, the body of William Tavington thrown into the back of Catherine's wagon, a small group of people rode off into the night.

In a large medical tent, Gabriel suffered the examination of yet another doctor. Two stood by his bed, examining his stitched stomach wound, currently mocking the care Gabriel had received from Catherine. Not because anything she had done was sub-par; simply because she was female.

"Sews beautifully, doesn't she?" One laughed. "Very small stitches."

"She should have made our uniforms!"

Gabriel felt a strange anger building beneath his calm veneer. This ridicule of the woman who had saved him infuriated Gabriel like little else managed to. Finally, he broke. "Could you stop laughing like drunk old coots in a tavern and tell me whether or not I'm alright to fight!"

Sobering quickly, the two finished their cursory examination.

"Well, you do seem to be healing nicely, and we need the men. Consider yourself cleared for battle."

"Thank you." Without another word Gabriel stood, striding off into the camp in search of his men. Catherine would be wrathful when she found out what he had done and he planned to avoid her as long as possible.

"Gabriel! Gabriel, over here!"

Dan Scott gesticulated wildly from beside a small campfire, members of the militia sitting nearby. A chorus of "Gabriel's!" rang out through the camp as he joined them.

"We thought you were dead!" Someone half-shouted amid the back-slaps and the "Welcome backs".

"So did I my friend, so did I."

"We've been trading stories with some of the others; stories about serving with your father in exchange for stories of this Catherine. She seems more like a fairy tale than a real person."

Gabriel frowned. "What do they say?"

Jean spoke from behind him. "They say she 'eals men with a simple touch. That she is an angel on Earth and that she cares for men with no thought as to what side they fight for."

"The last is true at least, though healing takes more than a touch," he placed a hand on his abdomen unconsciously, "and when she learns that I will be joining in the battle I doubt she will seem much like an angel." Benjamin stepped out of the shadows and Gabriel added, "Hello father."

Benjamin nodded. "The doctors cleared you then?"

"Yes sir."

"You're right."

"About what?" Gabriel asked, his dark eyes confused, the flickering shadows making the frown on his face garish in the firelight.

"She will not be happy to hear that you will be fighting." Benjamin shook his head slightly, looking his son in the eye. "I don't like it much either. But I know that with that doctor's agreement there'll be no stopping you. I would much rather know where you are, instead of always questioning, out on the battlefield. Now," he said, demeanor changing from that of a father to that of a military commander. He waited another beat before speaking to his men, taking that moment to look each in the eye. "I'd like the front row of militia to fire two shots tomorrow."

The joyous reunion had turned dark, somber. "A lot can happen in the time it takes to fire two shots."

"I know." Benjamin replied. "That's why I'm not asking you to fire three." In the last of the fading light Benjamin and Jean outlined the plan for the next day's battle, while at the same moment a woman with five companions rode into a battle of her own.

S-S-S

"Are you scared Miss?"

"No Baldric."

"With all due respect Catherine, perhaps you aught to be—at least a little."

"I agree." Healy added from the wagon. "General Lord Cornwallis does not accept defeat. You are riding into his territory with the body of his most vicious and best colonel."

Catherine never took her eyes from the path before her. "With all due respect, gentlemen, I have met with General Lord Cornwallis before. I do not fear him."

For a moment it seemed like someone might wager another comment, but instead silence was given free reign over the encroaching night. Soon Catherine's thoughts drifted back over the darkening fields and the soon-slumbering woods, until they rested on a man with hair like burnt sunshine and eyes of the bitterest chocolate. It was probably a sin to think of a man in this fashion, especially one who was under her care and a recent widower. Yet despite all attempts to the contrary, Catherine could not shake Gabriel from her mind. The stubborn preoccupation kept her thoughts at war with each other until the entrance to the camp.

"Halt your horses!"

Quickly Catherine, Baldric, and James reined in their mounts, while Healy pulled up the wagon. Grinning at the guard Healy spoke before Catherine had the chance.

"Hello friend O'Conner!"

"Spencer Healy! I heard you died!"

Healy rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Baldric. "I've heard that one before my friend. Now do us a favour, aye?"

O'Conner grinned at the sight of his old friend, replying in a cheerful Irish brogue. "Well me ma taught me better than to argue with a dead man. What is it ye be needing? It's not a lovely lass, for I see yee've brought one along for the ride. Shame on ye Spence, 'tis no place for a lady."

"Try telling her that." Baldric muttered under his breath. Catherine shot a glare his way, and Baldric settled.

"This is Miss Catherine St. Steven's and I am here on her behalf today. She has a letter of grave import for General Lord Cornwallis and it is imperative that he reads it immediately. Take it to him, and we shall wait here."

"Aye. Make yourselves comfortable and I'll fetch someone else to take my watch for the moment."

He quickly disappeared into the sea of white tents and another man soon took his place. The new guard and the Englishmen struck up a lively conversation, but Catherine sat silently. Roughly five minutes later, O'Conner returned at a full run, hopelessly out of breath.

"Cornwallis wants to see you immediately. He's headed this way and with meet you in the middle of the camp. Just head straight."

Catherine gave him a nod before riding off. "Thank you friend of my friend." Clucking to Kojak she urged the large beast forward.

"Hop aboard the wagon O'Conner!" Healy crowed. "You won't want to miss this!"

Trotting smartly forward, the small entourage soon gathered a large following. Upon encountering General Lord Cornwallis, Catherine halted, slide from the saddle, and dropped into a courtier's curtsey. Cornwallis responded with a bow, yet felt a shock of surprise at being greeted in such a manner.

"My lord we have never met, except through letters." Out of the corner of her eye Catherine saw Baldric stiffen and glare. "My name is Catherine St. Steven and you signed a treaty guaranteeing my property as neutral territory. I regret to inform you that one of your officers broke that treaty. Gentlemen." Catherine gestured behind her and the Englishmen she had cared for stepped forward, holding the wrapped body of Colonel Tavington. "I present you with Corporal Spencer Healy, Private John Wesley, and Private Joshua Barrington. They healed, under my care, and have returned to you to rejoin the battle. Unfortunately, the man in the blanket refused the stipulations of my homes boundaries. I am sure his men have returned with the tale of his demise. I thought however it would only be proper to bring you back the body of one of your prized colonels."

Cornwallis nodded. "I thank you for the care of His Majesty's men, and I regret most profoundly the injustice you faced. I am delighted to put a face to a name at long last. My men," he nodded to the steward at his side. "Will take care of the body. Now, will you join me for a cup of tea? I have many questions to ask of you."

Catherine smiled softly. "Thank you my lord, but no. I have a patient awaiting my return."

"Very well. Do you have a suitable escort for your journey?"

"Yes. Baldric and James will accompany me."

"Are you leaving for your home now?"

Catherine stiffened. "No sir. My home is no longer where I am needed. I shall return to the front."

Cornwallis shook his head. "As a gentleman I must protest. It is not safe for you."

"Thank you for your concern, but it is where my destiny lies. Good luck on the morrow."

"Perhaps someday we shall have that conversation."

She smiled, extending her hand. "I look forward to it."

Cornwallis bestowed the back of her hand with a chaste kiss. "As do I. I bid you good night."

"Same to you sir."

Spencer Healy, John Wesley, and Joshua Barrington deposited their load at the feet of Cornwallis' steward and turned back to Catherine.

Barrington approached her first. "I cannot thank you enough Lady Catherine." He too kissed her hand.

"Oh Mr. Barrington, I am no lady."

"Excuse me if I beg to differ." With a grin he stepped away and allowed Wesley his turn.

The customary kiss was dropped before he spoke. When he looked up there were tears glistening in her eyes. "I thought I was dead."

Catherine placed her hand on the man's cheek. "You'll be alright Mr. Wesley. I wish you all the best."

Tears blinked away, John Wesley disappeared into the crowd. He would resign his post and return to his wife and children. After having made friends with the so-called rebels he could no longer find it in his heart to fight.

Corporal Spencer Healy grabbed Catherine's hand as well, but did not kiss it. Instead he shook it like her would other man, before pulling the young woman into a hug. "You have made a difference in many lives. Someday the good you have given will be repaid a hundredfold."

"Everyone gives what they can; I am no different than the little old lady who knits the soldiers scarves."

Healy shook his head before releasing her. "I would try and change your mind about that, but I know it would be pointless. I wish you the best of luck in whatever endeavors you undertake. Knowing your determination however, my luck will be small matter to it."

"Luck is always welcome. I wish you luck as well, in tomorrow's battle. I will not be there to patch you up this time."

He smiled softly. "Than I will try and be more careful. Go, Gabriel needs your help." A mischievous grin broke out over Healy's face. "Who else will sit on his feet when he refuses to stay still?"

"Oh you." With a small swat on the arm, Catherine turned away. James had already dismounted, tying his horse to the back of the wagon and seating himself behind the team. With a hand from Healy, Catherine was in the saddle and preparing to leave. "Goodbye friends. If you make it through tomorrow, I will expect word to reach me. Whatever it is you're fighting for, I hope it's worth it." With a sad, tremulous smile, Catherine turned her mount, heading for the Continental camp under cover of darkness. For once Catherine was glad of the lack of light. It not only hid the riders from the world, it hid away her tears.

S-S-S

A/N: If you didn't read the A/N at the beginning you might want to do that. Thanks!


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